I'll come up with something in a minute.

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February 28, 2013 Posted by | Uncategorized | Leave a comment

A stufed pork chop

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February 27, 2013 Posted by | Photo, Photography | , , , | Leave a comment

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February 27, 2013 Posted by | Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Window

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February 27, 2013 Posted by | Photo | , | Leave a comment

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February 26, 2013 Posted by | Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Bottles!

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February 26, 2013 Posted by | Photo | , | Leave a comment

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February 25, 2013 Posted by | Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Twins in Death: Chapter Six – Part Two

Twins in Death

A Tale of The Weirdo

By Brett N. Lashuay

 

 

Chapter Six: To Plan a Meeting

 

 

October 23rd, 2002

9:02 p.m.

 

            The town house was a rather nice one, and probably very expensive. There was a ceramic candle holder in the shape of a jack-o-lantern on the front table when one entered, and an orange pumpkin-shaped ceramic bowl filled with small give away candies. A few orange and black streamers had been placed in the window along with a cartoonish plastic witch, clinging to the window through the magic of static electricity. The Weirdo looked at the plastic skeleton on the door as he opened it. It was a resting under a wreath made of duparoh leaves in autumn colors. Halloween is the second most popular holiday in America after Christmas if you count by sales of related merchandise.

 

            During the months of September and October it’s hard to find something not related to the holiday in some way. Even Little Debbie snack cakes turn orange for the duration. Halloween is a very important holiday in America, and it was sad to think that for these men it would now join Christmas as a time when they would have to reflect upon it as a time they were chasing killers. The Weirdo was reminded about Halloween again as he came to the heavy dark colored door. There was a patch torn on the door where the door had been kicked in. The doorknob had simply torn itself loose and part of the frame had come away from the wall. It was as if someone with a pretty good turn of strength had attacked them.

 

            The first thing a person usually notices when they come to a scene of death and destruction, particularly in an enclosed place, is the smell. Death, even in the best of circumstances is not a pleasant smelling thing to be around. The bodies hadn’t been around long enough to smell of decomposition, but that’s not the only thing that smells in death. When a person dies, their body goes limp. That means all their muscles go limp, including internal ones. Without becoming too scatological in nature, the odor was nearly intolerable. If organs are punctured, then digestive juices could also escape, which creates the smell of vomit. Of course blood has a specific odor of its own, and that’s troublesome as well. Humans are by nature predatory animals and the smell and sight of blood tends to excite a person who still has instincts that they never learned to do anything with. The Weirdo had spent enough time in ancient cities though, and after a while in the London of the fourteenth century, one simply learns to block out their olfactory senses.

 

            Jorgaes had let them in when they arrived, and all four of them, the four that were left, came in. Tommy was the first though the door and his face twisted up the moment he smelled the sewer that the dead bodies had released. The Weirdo came next, but the smell might have been a faint whiff on the air for all of his reaction. When Jack entered he clamped his hand over his nose and squeezed it shut to keep the smell out, as it would affect him more than the others. His senses were more acute due to the nature of his creation. The Weirdo looked at him with sympathy as he moved into the house.

 

Max’s face turned green and he looked as thought he might vomit from the smell when it hit him. The Weirdo closed his eyes after a moment and reached into his pocket. He drew out a small jar of Vick’s Vapor rub and smeared a bit just above his upper lip. The result was a small greenish blue variation of the sort of black smear mustache Groucho Marx used in so many of his movies. He’d considered, for just a brief moment, smearing his eyebrows as well. He dismissed this though thinking no one else would know what he was doing.

 

            Max took the jar and made an equally large smear under his nose, handing the jar to Jack who made a large smear as well. Tommy made just a tiny Charlie Chaplin style mustache with the vapor rub and Jorgaes made an equally small spot under his nose. The stuff would, if not block, at least help deflect the smell of the corpses. They took most their time breathing through their mouths to avoid the smell as well.

 

            When they entered the dining room they found another reason for the smell. The killer had decided that the smell of feces was not strong enough and had added to it, smearing it across the wall to give it ample space to deliver its scent. The Weirdo glanced at the wall smear and his mind captured and filed the complex ideogram that had been formed for later reference. His eyes then turned to the murdered family, and captured everything on the table as well.

 

            “It’s a single male.” Tommy said, muttering to himself really. “One killer.”

 

            Max walked around the table slowly, digesting the scene which he knew would haunt him later. When he woke up late at night, it would be those empty faces he would see. He noticed that the bodies had been tied to the chairs to sit up. Small slits had been cut into the backs of the shirts so that the idea that they were sitting up by themselves wouldn’t be marred.

 

            “Set this whole thing up.” Max muttered. “Look at the amount of tape he used on the faces. He tied them to the chairs.”

 

            “A lot of post mortem playing.” Jack said.

 

            “Lots of cuts.” Max said. “He destroyed the girl’s face after he bashed her head in. He set her up in the chair and cut her face to pieces.”

 

            “He ate a meal.” The Weirdo said looking at an extra plate.

 

            It had the remains of the meal on it. The killer had cut himself a piece of the lamb and had a portion of mashed potatoes. He had set them up and hand a meal with them, the head on the table was just a joke the killer thought might befuddle the police when they came to the scene. The Weirdo looked at the plate for a long moment, noticing the light color of the gravy, the remains of the broccoli and potato that sat on the plate.

 

            “Anything wrong with this family?” Jack asked folding his arms. “I know how dumb that sounds but could this be less random than it looks?”

 

            “Who did this?” The Weirdo asked. “What did they smell like?”

 

            “Pardon?” Max asked.

 

            “I can’t smell anyone.”

 

            “Isn’t that because of the Vic’s?”

 

            “Not that kind of smell Max.” The Weirdo said patiently.

 

            “I know.” Max said. “It was just…”

 

            “I can smell him.” Tommy said.

 

            “Then why can’t I?”

 

            “Why don’t we walk through this?” Tommy said, “When did this happen?”

 

            The Weirdo looked, stretched his mind out, and took in the evidence that would take hours with a few experts. He and Tommy both closed their eyes as they collected the events. Tommy was the first to open his eyes and when The Weirdo was done he saw Tommy’s royal blue eyes drilling into him.

 

            “We were at the store.” The Weirdo said. “About seven thirty.”

 

            “Yeah.” Tommy said, nodding knowingly. “Do you notice anything else?”

 

            “I can’t figure who did it.” The Weirdo said. “There is no smell. I might as well be watching the invisible man doing it.”

 

            Tommy’s head was shaking as The Weirdo spoke. The Weirdo stopped and looked at him for a long time. Jack and Max stood back, trying not to lean against or actually touching anything. It was always hard though, trying not to fidget. Cops seemed to be able to do it perfectly. They had a special knack for not touching anything in a given room. It came from the sort of practice these two had never needed.  Tommy looked at The Weirdo expectantly and then it suddenly occurred to him why The Weirdo couldn’t smell what he could smell.

 

            “I think I know the problem.” Tommy said.

 

            “Okay?” The Weirdo asked.

 

            “You can’t smell yourself.”

 

            “Pardon?”

 

            “If I didn’t know you were at the store, beating up a punk at the time I would be prepared to swear blind that you did this.” Tommy said.

 

            “Oh?”

 

            “Fraid so.”

 

            “But I didn’t.”

 

            “No.”

 

            “So who did?”

 

            “Someone who can fake your scent?” Max asked.

 

            “Have to be some good faker.” Jack said.

 

            “I’m not sure it can be done.” Tommy said. “It’s not exactly him, but it can’t be anyone else.”

 

            “I see.” The Weirdo said looking at the crime scene. “Me with a dash of crazy sauce?”

 

            “Oh you can smell the crazy sauce?” Tommy asked.

 

            “I can smell the crazy sauce.” Max said pointing to his upper lip. “And I’ve got Vic’s vapor rub up my nose and it’s not even that kind of smell.”

 

            “He has a point.” The Weirdo said. “They poured on the crazy sauce kind heavy.”

 

            “So what do we do from here?” Max asked.

 

            “Jorgaes,” The Weirdo said. “I guess you better call the real authorities.”

 

            “Are you sure?” Jorgaes asked.

 

            “Well, right now we’ve done all we can. We might as well get as many people involved in the hunt for Stewie McCrazypants as possible.”

 

            “If you’re sure.” Jorgaes said.

 

            “And we were never here.” Max said.

 

            “Oh?” Jorgaes asked.

 

            The Weirdo looked at Max and nodded to him. There was something in Max’s eyes that told The Weirdo he was getting a hunch from some source the rest of them knew nothing about. Max turned and walked out of the room, Jack and Tommy followed. The Weirdo walked up to Jorgaes and came close enough that a very soft voice was all that was necessary to be heard.

 

            “We know everything that happened. We don’t need to be questioned about the events. We don’t want to come back. We were never here, you just came about now for drinks and found them. Just change the story back an hour.”

 

            “Okay.” Jorgaes said. “What about when they find some evidence that you guys were here?”

 

            “Ignore it, let everything come through you.”

 

            “But what if this person planted evidence that it was you?” Jorgaes asked “I mean if he could make is seem like it was you, even to Tommy, how hard would it be to plant some blood or semen of yours around here to try and frame you? I mean you’ve still got diplomatic immunity, but public opinion can be devastating.”

 

            The Weirdo looked at the table and sucked at his lips, pulling the top lip in and pressing it in place with his teeth. He then nodded, and took his hat off. He pulled a hair from his head and deliberately stuck it into the hat so that it would be found in the hat. He then dropped it onto the floor.

 

            “Now, you found my hat, which you can recognize and you called and confirmed with me where I was tonight. Not only that but those lads will likely want to press charges so my story should check.”

 

            “You’re planting evidence.”

 

            “I’m planting evidence to implicate myself.” The Weirdo said. “I’m sure mother wouldn’t mind. It’s just so obvious it’s a set up, you know.”

 

            He walked out of the house and down the steps.

 

            “You forgot your hat.” Max said.

 

             “No I didn’t let’s go.”

 

 

© 2012 Autumn Knight Productions

February 25, 2013 Posted by | Fiction | , | Leave a comment

Photo Dump – February 2013 (Part 14)

Detroit Zoo this time…

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February 25, 2013 Posted by | Photo | , | Leave a comment

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February 25, 2013 Posted by | Uncategorized | Leave a comment