The Shinny Bone

The following is an excerpt from an interview between Officer Jim Hollins and a suspect involved in the death of John Kimble.

Interview took place on August 29 at 10:34 am. Suspect is a green female in her mid to late 120s with black hair and pupiless green eyes. She is 4 ft 3 inches and weighs 75 pounds.

Officer Hollins: Please state your name for the record, miss?

Suspect: Aoibheann

Do you spell that with one n?

Two. And an i. In the middle, there.

Splendid. Please explain the events of today starting from the beginning, Miss Aoibheann.

Well. I woke up this morning, in my mound, the one in the forest by the old roller rink, you know? I had breakfast, but found I had a craving for something sweet, so I decided to take a walk to maybe find some red clovers. They're pretty rare nowadays in that part of the woods, what with me eating them and all.

Is that when you decided to go to John Kimble's property?

Well, not decided exactly. I hadn't been that far out of the woods, I didn't even know his farm was there. I was following a particularly sweet seam of red clovers and suddenly I was out of the trees and into this big field. This guy was a farmer right? Wasn't very good at it if you ask me. Growing soy beans, but the rows were all wonky and there were clovers growing up in between them. You can't blame me for his terrible upkeep of his crop.

How far did you go onto the property?

Not very far. I wasn't trespassing, mind you, I was just cleaning up the clovers in the man's crop, like anyone would. Eventually though, I got full, and decided to head back to my mound.

Is this when the...ahem...incident happened?

My damn shinny bone fell off! I was too focused on eating clovers and not focused enough on keeping my parts together and it fell off! It was my favorite shinny bone too.

Your shinny bone...this was your...left tibia, correct?

Aye.

Why didn't you just pick it up when it...fell off?

Well, I didn't notice it was missing at first, that's why! What kind of two-bit fae do you take me for? My magic can still subconsciously hold up my body for a while without a couple bones, just like anyone! No, I got halfway to my mound before my magic drained out through the hole in my knee and I fell over. Imagine, walking through the woods, minding your own business, then all the sudden your leg just gives out! Damn embarrassing it was.

Well, I realized I'd probably just lost my shinny bone in that farmer's soy bean field, so I figured I'd just go and get it. Had to hobble on one leg the whole way, carrying my foot along with me like some drunk hobgoblin. Glad I didn't run into anyone I knew.

So you went back to John Kimble's property to find your shinny bone.

And it wasn't there! I searched up and down that field till way past suppertime, and found nothing but more soy beans and red clovers (which were delicious, but got tiresome after a while). I mean, how hard is it to find a glowing shinny bone in a soy bean field?

I'm sorry, it was glowing?

Of course. What, you think I'd have boring old white bones like you humans? I knew a guy who could make his bones purple, but nope, mine are just regular green.

[ To demonstrate, suspect casually peels back the thin skin on her chest to reveal her ribcage, which glows with a strong verdant light.]

So I'm looking for my shinny bone, and I happen to notice that farmer's house at the end of the field, and that old farmer's standing on the front porch. I think to myself, maybe he found my shinny bone and just took it out of the way so it wouldn't get carried off by some dog or something.

So I start walking towards him, hollering, "Oy! Where's my shinny bone, Mr. Farmer Man?" And you know what he does? Farmer man goes pale as curdled milk and turns and scuttles back into his little farmhouse. Damn rude, it was.

This was John Kimble?

Aye, the farmer man with the mustache and weak jaw. Who else would it be? So this lily-livered farmer man flees to his little house and locks the door and I am suspicious. What's this skitterbrook doing hiding from a faerie if he's got nothing to hide from the faerie? So I march right up to his front porch, calling to him all the way, "Where's my shinny bone? Where's my shinny bone you wimpy old farmer!" But I looked in the window and couldn't see him.

So you broke in?

I elected to search the house under suspicion that the pudding heart had stolen my leg bone! Hell, a part of me was already in the house, you might as well add kidnapping to that piece of paper you've been writing on. Didn't even leave his door locked, the craven.

So I walk into farmer man's house, it's a total mess, let me tell you, but what catches my eye is this big pot sitting on the stove, still stinking and steaming. And I just know. I walk over to this stove and sure enough, this pudding-hearted, yellow-bellied chickenshit has cooked my shinny bone! He'd put it in a stew and cracked it into pieces like it was a lousy chicken leg! What kind of sicko does that?

Do you have any idea why Kimble cooked the bone?

Does anyone know why that French guy ate kittens? You humans do the most cracked things. It's not as if the chickenshit didn't have a fridge full of beer and beef jerky to live off of. But no, he saw a whole, perfectly good green shinny bone in his soybean field and thought, "Hey! Surely no one will be missing that!"

How did seeing the pot make you feel?

It made me mad enough to steam, that's how I felt! I wanted to give that farmer a piece of my mind, and maybe a pamphlet for an Interspecies-Cannibalism-Anonymous group. So I went upstairs to tell him so.

How did you know he was upstairs?

Idiot coughed while I was wandering around the kitchen. I stomped up the stairs and found that he'd locked himself in the bedroom. He actually remembered to lock the door this time, but it didn't take long for me to bust it. Found the old fool hiding and trembling under his covers like a babe. As soon as he realized I was in his room though, he jumped up and started yelling at me, at me! Old farmer man eats my shinny bone for supper, and he has the gall to be mad at me!

Did you have any physical contact with John Kimble?

What, you mean did I hit him? Don't want any of your filthy human germs on my person, thank you very much. No, I just intended to give him a piece of my mind, is all. But he kept scooting away from me, moving around like a red-handed weasel. Wasn't my fault he got too close to the window.

So you didn't push him out?

No! The old sod tripped over that ugly rug of his and fell through himself. Shook the whole house when he landed. Damn shame.

Shame?

Aye , I was planning on suing after scaring him. Maybe buy a nice glass prosthetic with the money. Now I just have to hobble around on this busted thing.

[ Subject heaves her left leg onto the table. Her tibia has been reattached, but the limb is slightly crooked, and there's a layer of duct tape wrapped around the thin skin.]