Monday, June 27, 2011

Captain’s Log, Day Seven: Elementary, my dear Watson!

          I wonder if I would make a good detective?
          This question entered my tiny little brain after my third Columbo episode of this last week. Believe it or not, I actually successfully determined the criminal before Columbo did. And for those of you who have seen the show, it WASN’T because they showed the murder first!!!! Although, I will admit, that kinda helped…
          Seriously though, I do really well with those murder mystery books, with the exception of anything written by Timothy Zahn because he leaves stuff out. I think my natural cynicism helps; it also makes it a little hard to watch movies in general because I can usually predict what’s coming next. Has anyone else noted repeating themes here?
          There’s only one problem with my amazing prowess here, though (and yes, that was sarcasm)…in movies and books, there’s a limited number of characters. It has to be someone in the plot line who gives himself/herself away in a predictable manner. Now, real life can be infinitely more complicated, so I feel like I would be more of a hindrance than a help…

          Head of the FBI: “What have you come up with?”
          Me: “The butler did it!”
          HFBI: “There is no butler, dummy.”
          Me (confused): “Let me check my files…”
          HFBI: “You do tha—why are you using my TV?”
          Me: “I’m studying Columbo! I’m sure he could figure it out.”
          HFBI: “Maybe we’ll just arrest you instead.”

          Unfortunately, this would also probably mean I could never enter a life of crime…

          FBI: “You’re under arrest for the bank robbery.”
          Me: “I would never do such a thing!”
          FBI: “Uh, you left your wallet in the vault.”
          Me: “Well, yeah, because the bags were so much more conveni—damn.”

          Actually, I have tried a life of crime before (pilfered chocolate chips from the freezer when I was younger) but got betrayed by my trusted sidekick (i.e. my sister Quill had an irritated conscience). Well, that and my mom had a limited number of suspects to choose from. The ironic part was that we were playing a certain role at the time, complete with bows and arrows…but we ate all the chocolate ourselves.
          Robin Hood, I ain’t. 

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