I’m a Detective

Detective

You’re probably wondering what I’m doing at your party.  You see, I’m a detective.

No, I don’t have a magnifying glass and a trench coat.  I’m not that kind of detective.  I also don’t have a corncob pipe and a button nose, because you’re thinking of a snowman.  What I do have is a great sense of observation and an incredible intellect.  Allow me to demonstrate.

Just from observing this room, I can tell you are a fan of Woody Allen.  The stack of short story collections on the desk, the jazz records next to the turntable, the Annie Hall poster—all of these things led to my conclusion.

But that’s not all.  I’m also aware that there are exactly ten beers in your refrigerator.  How do I know this, you ask.  Well, at the top of the evening, I counted eleven beers in your refrigerator, and then I drank one of those beers.

Ten beers.

Being a detective does require some good old fashioned investigating, too.  Like when I first got here, I looked through that pile of mail on the counter and saw you lived with someone named Ken.  Now, when someone asks me who I know here, I just say I’m friends with Ken.

It is quite impressive, but it can be a bit of a burden.  Like right now, I cannot simply enjoy the party, because earlier, when I was in the bathroom, I observed that someone stopped up the toilet.  I know everyone’s probably going to come to me looking for answers because I’m a detective, but I seriously don’t know who did that.

Sometimes I wish I wasn’t so observant.  I wish I could just enjoy these meatballs without noticing your friend, Kayla, giving me a dirty look whenever I put more than two of them in my mouth at once.  Those things are going fast, so I put a handful in my pocket for later.  Great meatballs, man.

Another important part of being a detective is collecting data.  You might remember earlier I came up behind you and flipped up the collar of your shirt.  I simply wanted to know where the shirt came from, because it’s a really cool shirt.

Unfortunately, I’m not allowed to go into Banana Republic anymore.

Hey, I hate to be rude, but my tummy’s grumblin’ again, and I feel like another trip to the bathroom is on the horizon, so it would be great if you could get that problem taken care of.

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One response to “I’m a Detective

  1. Pingback: He’s a Detective « okayhater·

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