Just Like Romeo And Juliet...
Winter sucks. Yesterday I almost had a total breakdown because I realized that I don't know anyone who'd want to shoot me in the head. That sounds crazy, and it is crazy, and I totally blame it on this never-ending subzero bitch of a winter. And now my mother thinks I need therapy. But that's her fault.
I don't mean it's her fault like "my mommy didn't love me enough" or whatever it is we're supposed to tell therapists. I mean it's her fault that I actually care that nobody wants to shoot me in the head. Here's the thing: my mother watches Forensic Files, which is all about real murder victims and how their cases were solved by all sorts of nifty forensic tricks. I don't usually care to watch stuff like that, but it seemed more appealing than helping the guys fire up the grill on a windy day when the temperature wasn't expected to reach 10 degrees. Family dinners are fun, aren't they?
Anyway. The story on Forensic Files was about a hiker who found a skull with a bullet hole in it. The hiker freaked out, which I really don't get. I mean, I'd spaz if I stumbled across a corpse, but my logic is that the killer could still be in the general vicinity. A skull just doesn't do it for me. I think my reaction would have been more like, "Oh, funny rock. No, wait, skull. Hey, cool. Bullet hole? Wicked!" But the hiker ran like hell and called the police, crying. Yeah. He cried. Whatever.
So the police sent their little Crime Squad to the scene. I don't know if they had a real title, but that's what I'm calling them. The Crime Squad found another skull with a bullet hole in it, a bunch of bones, and some jewelry which the yokel Squad leader referred to as "Satanic." There was an Eye of Horus and an Ankh. Both of which are Egyptian. Not Satanic. Stupid fuckwad. But I digress. The point is, there were two skeletons with giant neon Homicide Victim signs pointing at them.
The bones were sent to a lab to be reassembled. One victim was a guy, the other was a girl. The Squad leader mumbled something about cults and sacrifices, and I threw a magazine at the TV. Then he mumbled something else about suicide, and even the interviewer was like "the fuh?" Who commits suicide by shooting themselves in the back of the head?
My mother was trying to figure out What Really Happened before the forensic analysis even started, and I got up to go slam my head into a wall. She was all, "but don't you want to know... the truth?" She was a little too into the show, you know? But I was like, "I know what happened. They shot each other. I hug you, you hug me, guns to the back of the head, count to three, bang. End of story." My mother stared at me for a while, then said, "You're sick, you know that?" Yup. Thanks, Ma.
Cut to half an hour later: The victims were identified by dental records. The guy had terminal brain cancer, the chick was his wife. They left a suicide note for their families, shaved their heads, wandered into the woods, and shot each other. Exactly how I said. Except the Squad leader called it an "embrace." Then he nodded three times and shrugged. I'm still wondering why. The medical examiner wound up having to create a new cause of death term: Mutual Homicide Pact.
So I got up to do the I Was Right And You Were Wrong jig. Because it really pisses my mother off. She started bitching about it being a stupid story, and how idiotic it was for people to just shoot each other like that. I made the mistake of saying that I thought it was kind of romantic. Like Romeo and Juliet, only more proactive. My mother just gave me that look again and said, "You really need to see a therapist." She's such a sore loser.
But I completely forgot about the show until yesterday when the weatherman said that it might snow this week. I have no idea why that set me off. Anyway. Amy found me, half an hour later, curled up on the couch, sniffling. I never do that, so she panicked and ran for a box of tissues. Apparently she thought somebody must have died. She finally chilled out enough to ask me what was wrong, and I was like, "Nobody loves me enough to shoot me in the head!" I really don't blame her for looking confused. But she's a good friend, so she said, "Oh, honey. I'll... shoot you in the head. Okay?"
I blame it all on the weather. Or Seasonal Affective Disorder. Or something that makes me completely not crazy. I think I need to go into hibernation now. A nice long hibernation. Anyone up for a Mutual Homicide Pact?
I don't mean it's her fault like "my mommy didn't love me enough" or whatever it is we're supposed to tell therapists. I mean it's her fault that I actually care that nobody wants to shoot me in the head. Here's the thing: my mother watches Forensic Files, which is all about real murder victims and how their cases were solved by all sorts of nifty forensic tricks. I don't usually care to watch stuff like that, but it seemed more appealing than helping the guys fire up the grill on a windy day when the temperature wasn't expected to reach 10 degrees. Family dinners are fun, aren't they?
Anyway. The story on Forensic Files was about a hiker who found a skull with a bullet hole in it. The hiker freaked out, which I really don't get. I mean, I'd spaz if I stumbled across a corpse, but my logic is that the killer could still be in the general vicinity. A skull just doesn't do it for me. I think my reaction would have been more like, "Oh, funny rock. No, wait, skull. Hey, cool. Bullet hole? Wicked!" But the hiker ran like hell and called the police, crying. Yeah. He cried. Whatever.
So the police sent their little Crime Squad to the scene. I don't know if they had a real title, but that's what I'm calling them. The Crime Squad found another skull with a bullet hole in it, a bunch of bones, and some jewelry which the yokel Squad leader referred to as "Satanic." There was an Eye of Horus and an Ankh. Both of which are Egyptian. Not Satanic. Stupid fuckwad. But I digress. The point is, there were two skeletons with giant neon Homicide Victim signs pointing at them.
The bones were sent to a lab to be reassembled. One victim was a guy, the other was a girl. The Squad leader mumbled something about cults and sacrifices, and I threw a magazine at the TV. Then he mumbled something else about suicide, and even the interviewer was like "the fuh?" Who commits suicide by shooting themselves in the back of the head?
My mother was trying to figure out What Really Happened before the forensic analysis even started, and I got up to go slam my head into a wall. She was all, "but don't you want to know... the truth?" She was a little too into the show, you know? But I was like, "I know what happened. They shot each other. I hug you, you hug me, guns to the back of the head, count to three, bang. End of story." My mother stared at me for a while, then said, "You're sick, you know that?" Yup. Thanks, Ma.
Cut to half an hour later: The victims were identified by dental records. The guy had terminal brain cancer, the chick was his wife. They left a suicide note for their families, shaved their heads, wandered into the woods, and shot each other. Exactly how I said. Except the Squad leader called it an "embrace." Then he nodded three times and shrugged. I'm still wondering why. The medical examiner wound up having to create a new cause of death term: Mutual Homicide Pact.
So I got up to do the I Was Right And You Were Wrong jig. Because it really pisses my mother off. She started bitching about it being a stupid story, and how idiotic it was for people to just shoot each other like that. I made the mistake of saying that I thought it was kind of romantic. Like Romeo and Juliet, only more proactive. My mother just gave me that look again and said, "You really need to see a therapist." She's such a sore loser.
But I completely forgot about the show until yesterday when the weatherman said that it might snow this week. I have no idea why that set me off. Anyway. Amy found me, half an hour later, curled up on the couch, sniffling. I never do that, so she panicked and ran for a box of tissues. Apparently she thought somebody must have died. She finally chilled out enough to ask me what was wrong, and I was like, "Nobody loves me enough to shoot me in the head!" I really don't blame her for looking confused. But she's a good friend, so she said, "Oh, honey. I'll... shoot you in the head. Okay?"
I blame it all on the weather. Or Seasonal Affective Disorder. Or something that makes me completely not crazy. I think I need to go into hibernation now. A nice long hibernation. Anyone up for a Mutual Homicide Pact?