There Are a Hundred Stories in the Naked Forest…
“That bunny was trouble, I tell you. Trouble from the very beginning.” Simon Pigg was pacing up and down between the rows of desks in the police station.
Detective Fox snorted and squashed his cigar on the ashtray. “Tell me somethin’ I don’t know. And sit the hell down. You’re making me dizzy.” He didn’t add hungry. Something about all that bacon on the move made his mouth water. But if he ate one more witness, it would be his badge. Funny, the chief didn’t seem to mind him eating the perps.
“Well, you need to find the killer, and pronto. It’s bad enough publicity for the god-damned Easter Bunny to die a week before the Big Day, but what if we replace him with one of the understudies, then find out the understudy did it? We’d never get over that one. My company stands to lose millions!” He pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his portly brow. Fox nearly stood on tip-toe to get a whiff of the resulting porcine perfume.
He composed himself and gestured for the businessman to sit down. “Now, tell me about these understudies.”
“Bunch a dopes, every one of them. Every year, they come out of the woodwork, show up for auditions wearing them stupid bunny ears and clucking. Clucking, I tell ya. Like it doesn’t say ‘b-u-n-n-y’ right there in their copy.”
“Well, what did you expect them to say?”
“I dunno, they should be able to ad-lib something. Not that he ever gave them much to work with. He was the strong, silent type. You know, like Gary Cooper. Only with a cute little cotton ball tail. The dames went wild for that tail. He was always off with the dames.” He stopped. “Hey, maybe it wasn’t one of the understudies. Maybe it was a dame.” He snapped his fingers, no mean trick what with all the fat on those piggies. “Yeah, one of them dames musta gotten jealous and decided to stop all his canoodling. Or one of his bunny-mommas decided she was tired of waiting for child support. He musta had fifty kids.”
“Who was he seeing? Do you have a list?”
“Nah, but he was a busy boy. A busy, busy boy, if you get my drift.” Simon winked broadly. “He wrote all his dates down in his planner there – so you might get a list of the recent hotties from it.”
“Well, you know dames, always going for the celebrities.”
“So, how come you know so much about his business, Pigg?”
“His business was my business. Pigg’s Perfection Confections. We’ve been making the candy the Easter Bunny peddles for sixty years. He’s our trademark, our spokesbunny. But the brains behind the bunny? That’s all right up here.” He tapped his forehead with a smile. “I’m the brains, he was just the pretty face.”
Detective Fox leafed through the planner and looked up. “You say he’s been your spokesman- er, bunny, for sixty years?”
“Then I’m afraid I’m putting you under arrest for the murder of the Easter Bunny.”
“What? What are you talking about?” As Simon Pigg stood up, too shocked to run, he knocked the planner to the floor. It fell open to the day before the murder and the checklist scrawled in the margin, next to the doctor’s appointment.
- Develop a food plan.
- Develop an activity plan.
- Start taking meds.
- Check on health insurance.
“You don’t have anything on me.” Simon shrieked. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
“I think we’ll find, after we finish the autopsy, that the Easter Bunny had just found out he had Type II diabetes. And I think that when you found out, you were afraid it would be tracked back to all those years of eating your candy. You didn’t want the bad publicity, did you?”
“I want my lawyer.”
“It’s too bad, because you could have spun the diagnosis into a new healthy campaign, based on moderation.”
“Moderation, are you kidding me? This is chocolate we’re talkin’ about here. Chocolate. You don’t know the cravings.”
Detective Fox took one more look at the quivering mass of ham hock that was Simon, and shook his head. “You’re wrong buddy, I know just as much about cravings as anybody. You just need to practice self-restraint.” And he gestured for one of the other cops to take him to holding. But as the rookie took hold of the struggling swine, Fox stopped him.
“I’ll take him myself.” he said, grinning. “After all, I’ve got more experience with perps. The chief will understand.”
Please take a minute and visit the other participants of this month’s blog chain, for some really good stories.
orion_mk3 * Ralph Pines * kiwiviktor81 * Nissie * SuzanneSeese * pyrosama * Bogna * dclary * randi.lee * julzperri * Penelope * AFord * Araenvo * areteus * magicmint * writingismypassion * Joliedupre * whiskey * Tomspy77