BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Yep… You would think that considering the books I pen I would eschew getting myself involved in any more mysteries than are absolutely necessary. After all, making them up, plotting them out, and then attaching them to paper through the use of words should be enough for one guy, correct?

But no… Leave it to me to get myself involved in a murder investigation here at home.

So, let me explain the event leading up to this homicide for you:

I was making one of my daily trips to the library (yes, that would be a euphemism- library, can, throne room, crapper… take your pick.) Anyway, there I am, reading through the latest issue of Missouri Conservationist when over the top edge of the magazine I spy something. At first, I thought nothing of it, but that only lasted a second or two. You know how it is – you see something and it doesn’t quite register at first, but then after a heartbeat or so it smacks your right between the eyes… Well, that’s pretty much what happened. So, lowering the magazine, I took a longer look.

Lo and behold, there on the back corner of the bathtub, not quite covered by the shower curtain, are Barbie and Ken. Now, I’m definitely no prude- if you’ve read the Miranda Trilogy, you know that to be true- however, I have to admit that I blushed. You see, Barbie, in all her curvaceous glory, was grappled with the buff eunuch in a “girl-on-top missionary position”. It was obvious that they had been swimming in the bathtub at some point because Babs’ long, flowing, nylon hair showed signs of having dried without the benefit of combing or detangling. Ken, on the other hand, had little problem in that department, what with the helmet hair and all, but I digress. The point is, putting two and two together told me that after some frolicking in the sudsy surf, the two had apparently become amorous and, well, needed to do some business. Perfectly natural. Basic carnal urges and all that… So, all good…

At any rate, as I said, I blushed, then went back to reading about hummingbird feeders while making it a point to finish the article and all my business associated with the reading of said article a bit more quickly than usual. I mean, I seriously doubted that the two love birds really wanted a spectator, know what I mean? (BTW, due to Ken’s general lack of endowment, I didn’t bother to offer any contraception. I suspected it probably wasn’t needed.)

Okay, so now we fast forward to the next day. Here is where the crime scene comes into play…

As expected, I needed to once again visit the library. Just one of those other natural urges. This time I think I was planning to read the local school district newsletter so I would be up on any bond issues, or things I might need to know which would affect my child’s learning. I pretty much figured Babs and Ken would be done by now, so I was feeling pretty safe in selecting one of the longer articles to read. Of course, as we all know, the best laid plans of mice and Murvs, yadda yadda…

Upon entering the library, naturally my eyes were drawn to the porcelain beachfront where the two fashion dolls had been making out. Not because I am a closet voyeur or anything, I just wanted to be certain they were finished so that I could in fact indulge in reading the lengthy article without feeling rushed. What I saw this time was less a scene from a skin flick and more a horrific tableau from a slasher movie (or, one of my books even…)

Ken’s rigid body was laid out in the very same spot where Babs had been…ummm…uhhh…”mounting” him. However, like I said, it was his body. The poor plastic eunuch’s head was sitting several inches away, quite obviously separated from the rest of his buff plasticness, and it was staring dully at the ceiling.

Well… Being a curious author of suspense thrillers that usually involve some type of gory murder, I felt compelled to investigate further. Using the rolled up newsletter to carefully push back the shower curtain (I didn’t want to disturb evidence like fingerprints you see) I proceeded to check out the surroundings.

Much to my surprise, perched on the ledge of the tile back splash, was Barbie, resplendent in her sparkly blue- and extremely filled out- bathing suit. Her pretty little face, replete with a tasteful touch of eye shadow and pearlescent pink lipstick was tilted in the direction of the carnage. And, moreover, on those pearly pink lips she was wearing that painted on smug grin.

The investigation is proceeding, and so far Babs isn’t saying a word, but I’ve got one of those feelings… You know, the Rowan Gant Twilight Zone knocking on the back of my skull kind.

And, you know what it’s telling me?

Barbie is a Black Widow. Maybe they should have named her, oh, I don’t know… Miranda?

More to come…

Murv

In the 1986 Michael Mann film, Manhunter, based on Thomas Harris’ novel Red Dragon, there is a scene where a sting operation is being set up and one of the FBI agents says to Investigator Will Graham, “Let’s walk the route…” Basically, the idea was for them to walk the path Graham would be taking during the sting in order that he be familiar with it and hopefully not get himself killed.

Well, I walked the route last night… Not the route Will Graham (William Petersen) walked in the movie…No, I walked the route Special Agent Constance Mandalay walked in the last pages of The End Of Desire. I’ll try not to give away too much, as I know some readers of my blog have yet to get their hands on TEOD, and are hoping it will be in their Yule stocking (Good luck to you on that – I’m pulling for you!)… Suffice it to say, I “walked the route.”

The Saint Louis Zoo does in fact have a special light display every year at this time. It is called “Wild Lights”. And, each year as a family we go there, pay our modest admission, and wander around the zoo in the dark looking at all the wonderous displays. Hence, the reason (with some minor name changes) it was featured as part of the climax in The End Of Desire.

Anyway, last night was our annual pilgrimage, and it was the first time I had been back to the display since writing TEOD (naturally). So, I walked Mandalay’s route…There was a crowd of folks, as usual, enjoying hot chocolate and the various light displays…But, for me, it was like moving slowly through a dream. The fictional scene replayed in my head, projecting itself onto the canvas of reality before me. Non-existent players in this world were suddenly very tangible, if only to my eyes and no one else’s.

For a scant 30 minutes, fiction became reality in my own personal world.

It was, to say the least, an interesting experience… Of course, we know that my characters talk to me all the time, so I suppose I should have expected it.

Yeah, I’m pretty disturbed. But we already knew that, didn’t we? 

More to come…

Murv