Cut To The Chase | On Hiatus

Why The F**k Do You Have A Knife?

"Why the fuck do you have a knife?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"...Are you going to stab me with it?"

"Does it look like I'm going to stab you with it?"

"Touche."

Hold on, let's start from the beginning.

It was a sunny day in the office, birds chirping, people smiling, laught-

"What  are you thinking about, ya moron?" And there goes my day.

"Just the case."

"Which one?"

I looked over at my coworker, Rebecca Lovely, (who was not lovely though her name says different). She was that one cliche person that absolutely hated their job and insulted everyone from nine am to five pm, and then would go and insult her boyfriend until they went to bed, and then repeat.

"Uh, girlfriend thinks the boyfriend is buying hookers." Rebecca rolls her eyes and scoffs.

"How pathetic. If you think your boyfriend is buying hookers, kick him in the balls."

"What if he isn't?"

"Well, he still deserved it for being that suspicious." Did I mention she was a overly supportive of the idea that women should rule the world and drag the male race to extinction?

Though it doesn't seem very exciting, I'm a P.I. I get hired by random paranoid girlfriends or cheating boyfriends (needless to say, it's sometimes the opposite). And, of course, the occasional job from the police department when their detectives are too swamped. I guess you could say I was their second choice, reluctantly. 

"Are you going to see the boyfriend or am I?"

"You. I don't have any time to deal with cheating bastards at this moment." 

"Okay, okay. I'll schedule a meeting with him later today and see what I can get out if it. In the meantime, please think before you choke any more cheating bastards."

"It was one time."

_

I hop into my car and call the guy, asking to meet. Though I hate disagreeing with Rebecca, the guy is most likely a cheater. Staying out late, being defensive about every question, three locks on his phone before getting to his texts. 

I head over to an empty park, looking for a bench. I look over at the trees, enjoying the breeze and the calming water that surrounded the park.

And then I saw a dead body.

Of course, at the time I didn't know she was dead. I felt like my eyes were the size of melons, and I ran over to her. I shouted help, but no one near except a deaf old lady that feeds the birds every Tuesday (she's nice, by the way). I hesitatingly put my finger to her neck, to hopefully find a pulse. I got blood on my hand, and I looked down in disgust.

Then I threw up all over the place.

Oh, what a day. I called 911, as I was still vomiting, and I heard the sirens. The situation did not look good. I, for one, was covered in puke. Second, I had blood all over my new tie (thanks, mom) and there was a dead girl at my feet.

"Police! Put your hands in the air!" I felt their footsteps vibrate the gravel, and as much of a pussy that I was, I cried.

"Please don't arrest me! I have a job! I have to find a stupid cheating bastard and I can't if I'm in jail with the gangsters!" I looked at all the cops, and they just gave me what-are-you-doing look.