FF: Calleigh/Natalia silliness, CSI Miami, The Exploding Birthday Party
So, way back in April, I posted a challenge I never answered. My recent horoscope from the incomparable Rob Brezney told me that I had unfinished business from April. So I checked my archives and decided that I needed to finish the caveat emptor challenge I put up for the newest kitty's first birthday ( http://shatterpath.livejournal.com/2007/04/23/ ). So, here you go Gabe, even though you don't appreciate it, hopefully others will!
That last damn word (they're bolded, just for you) really gave me hives. The food words gave me the scene. This was a riot to piece together!
"Oh gross," I hear Natalia whine at the gloppy mess that coats every surface, including the light fixtures. "This is now at the top of my list for weird crime scenes."
Chuckling, I step around one oozing pile only to wince when another glob of debris lands on my shoulder. Oh well, better than adding to the two in my hair…
"Tomatoes, lettuce, hot dogs," Natalia is now cataloguing the mess as she snaps pictures. "And I would swear that's hot fudge. Was this a birthday party gone wrong?"
Now I have to laugh out loud and Natalia looks pleased at my merriment. The restaurant kitchen does look as though the contents of a birthday party for a very large crowd violently threw up everywhere. "At least it doesn't smell bad."
"Yet," Natalia smirks and I laugh again. "With those windows," she gestures at the banks of filthy glass, "this mess will be foul soon enough."
"And sunshine once more becomes our enemy," I intone dramatically and Natalia laughs.
"Well, tally-ho and all that," she mocks back in a truly horrible English accent. The playful banter suits this odd crime scene somehow and we keep it up as we work our way deeper into the mess. Natalia squawks more than once as the mess drips from the ceiling and I tease her, because I can.
She gets the best zinger in as she reaches the far corner of the kitchen. "Well spank me silly and call me the birthday girl, I found the origin of this disaster."
"How?" I question in disbelief as I wade over. "The mess isn't nearly as bad over here."
But, there it is, some kind of machine that obviously had been mixing this mess and exploded. "Like a cat with a hairball," Natalia says wisely and the mental image makes me glower at her, earning an unapologetic smirk.
Examining what we can of the ruined mixing machine, it's obvious that it is ancient and makeshift.
"Well, this cat with a hairball had nine lives," is my verdict as I straighten up from examining it as best I can.
"And spent the last one," Natalia cackles with delight. "Though, to make this mess, that thing must have had some serious juice under the hood, so to speak."
Despite the dripping mess that is our crime scene, we have to remain onsite and splattered with food in order to finish up. It takes nearly an hour to realize that there is, indeed a body that matches the missing person that was suspected to be in the mess. It turns out that he was in the thickest part of the mess.
Lucky us.
When Alexx arrives some time later to collect the body, Natalia and I take one look at her stylish ivory pantsuit that contrasts so nicely wither rich skin tone and raven hair…
And burst into hysterical laughter.
Needless to say, Alexx is completely annoyed with us as she is forced into the mess to retrieve what she has come for. We do the worst of the dirty work in apology for laughing, not to mention that our clothes are ruined anyway.
Mopping off his face reveals our vic to the manager, who has finally arrived. Admirably, the new fellow, who looked somewhat frail and queeny, swallows the usual nausea and identifies his employee. That's all Alexx needs and she's off to find cause of death in the weird birthday party ingredients explosion. "Poor Marty," the manager mourns. "He just started with us. Told me he's always suffered, and I quote, 'an acute case of wanderlust,' and wanted to settle down." One last look around the devastated kitchen makes the man shudder. "This is not what he had in mind. Please let me know when I can get a crew in to clean up. I have to go explain to the Vanderhorn's that their little princess' party will not be going as planned."
Once he's left, Natalia comments, "wouldn't want his job. With a snotty name like Vanderhorn, he's in deep…"
The pause lets me get in the last zinger. "Deep hot fudge?"
As a glop of said material splats to the ruined floor, we both squeal with childlike laughter.
That last damn word (they're bolded, just for you) really gave me hives. The food words gave me the scene. This was a riot to piece together!
"Oh gross," I hear Natalia whine at the gloppy mess that coats every surface, including the light fixtures. "This is now at the top of my list for weird crime scenes."
Chuckling, I step around one oozing pile only to wince when another glob of debris lands on my shoulder. Oh well, better than adding to the two in my hair…
"Tomatoes, lettuce, hot dogs," Natalia is now cataloguing the mess as she snaps pictures. "And I would swear that's hot fudge. Was this a birthday party gone wrong?"
Now I have to laugh out loud and Natalia looks pleased at my merriment. The restaurant kitchen does look as though the contents of a birthday party for a very large crowd violently threw up everywhere. "At least it doesn't smell bad."
"Yet," Natalia smirks and I laugh again. "With those windows," she gestures at the banks of filthy glass, "this mess will be foul soon enough."
"And sunshine once more becomes our enemy," I intone dramatically and Natalia laughs.
"Well, tally-ho and all that," she mocks back in a truly horrible English accent. The playful banter suits this odd crime scene somehow and we keep it up as we work our way deeper into the mess. Natalia squawks more than once as the mess drips from the ceiling and I tease her, because I can.
She gets the best zinger in as she reaches the far corner of the kitchen. "Well spank me silly and call me the birthday girl, I found the origin of this disaster."
"How?" I question in disbelief as I wade over. "The mess isn't nearly as bad over here."
But, there it is, some kind of machine that obviously had been mixing this mess and exploded. "Like a cat with a hairball," Natalia says wisely and the mental image makes me glower at her, earning an unapologetic smirk.
Examining what we can of the ruined mixing machine, it's obvious that it is ancient and makeshift.
"Well, this cat with a hairball had nine lives," is my verdict as I straighten up from examining it as best I can.
"And spent the last one," Natalia cackles with delight. "Though, to make this mess, that thing must have had some serious juice under the hood, so to speak."
Despite the dripping mess that is our crime scene, we have to remain onsite and splattered with food in order to finish up. It takes nearly an hour to realize that there is, indeed a body that matches the missing person that was suspected to be in the mess. It turns out that he was in the thickest part of the mess.
Lucky us.
When Alexx arrives some time later to collect the body, Natalia and I take one look at her stylish ivory pantsuit that contrasts so nicely wither rich skin tone and raven hair…
And burst into hysterical laughter.
Needless to say, Alexx is completely annoyed with us as she is forced into the mess to retrieve what she has come for. We do the worst of the dirty work in apology for laughing, not to mention that our clothes are ruined anyway.
Mopping off his face reveals our vic to the manager, who has finally arrived. Admirably, the new fellow, who looked somewhat frail and queeny, swallows the usual nausea and identifies his employee. That's all Alexx needs and she's off to find cause of death in the weird birthday party ingredients explosion. "Poor Marty," the manager mourns. "He just started with us. Told me he's always suffered, and I quote, 'an acute case of wanderlust,' and wanted to settle down." One last look around the devastated kitchen makes the man shudder. "This is not what he had in mind. Please let me know when I can get a crew in to clean up. I have to go explain to the Vanderhorn's that their little princess' party will not be going as planned."
Once he's left, Natalia comments, "wouldn't want his job. With a snotty name like Vanderhorn, he's in deep…"
The pause lets me get in the last zinger. "Deep hot fudge?"
As a glop of said material splats to the ruined floor, we both squeal with childlike laughter.