Okay, lady–sit down here. It’s all gonna be okay, ma’am, just tell us how it happened.
Well, Officer, it started out like any other Friday. Took the kids to the pool, everybody got lunch, went down for a nap. And then I woke up from a nap and it all went to shit.
So what happened? Fire? Thieves? You look like a good mama bear– did somebody mess with your kids?
No, no. Kids were fine. I just woke up from my nap and their rooms weren’t clean.
Did you ask the kids to clean the rooms?
No–but damn, when I woke up, I was PISSED to realize they weren’t clean. I mean, they haven’t been clean in years, but suddenly? Heads were gonna fuckin’ roll.
*officer edges away* Oookaaaaay… So, rooms weren’t clean. You flipped out–
No, no– didn’t flip out. I stewed. I stewed, a turned the heavens black with my stewage, and then my husband got home and it all got worse.
*starts texting for backup and a straightjacket and a shrink* Gotcha. How bad did it get.
Oh, it was bad. First, he asked me what was wrong. Then, when I pouted at him, he made dinner for me. Oh, I tell you, I was boiling mad. Then, when he had a soccer game, I was furious.
Well, ma’am, if your husband came home from work and left you in that state–
Well, no. He didn’t leave me. He asked me to come with him. See? I put the pictures of old people playing soccer all over the net.
Oh. Uhm. Very nice. He looks like an excellent player. So, then, what happened next?
Well the soccer game was fun, actually–got to talk to one of his wounded teammates, I like her. Then we came home and stopped at the market and I bought four boxes of Klondike bars and two giant bags of potato chips. With dip.
Oh. And did you eat them all?
No. Of course not. *laughs evilly* But I could have. Oh, yes. I could have.
So, you became angry–
Not just angry–homorhoidal ragealicious. I was HOT.
Are you angry now?
Uh, no, actually.
And then you got hungry.
I can see that. Lady, there is no food in here, give it up. So, after you got hungry–
I got… *blushes* Well, let’s just say my husband never knew I was angry.
Oh. So, angry, hungry, horny– any of the other seven dwarves?
Sleepy. Saturday might as well not have happened.
Achy. Death awaits anyone who touches my boobs.
Aha. So, this is Sunday, ma’am. What brings you in here?
I think there’s been a homicide.
Your husband? Your kids? Your dogs?
No. They’re all fine. But… *voice breaks* The blood… oh dear God, the blood…
I think you need a pound of chocolate and some maxi pads. Does that sound about right?
And there’s the other dwarf. Weepy. Here, hon. Hide out in the corner until it’s over.
Oooookaaaaaaayyyyyyyyy…. *cries and cradles giant box of feminine hygiene products while stuffing face in a blessedly quiet corner* Thanks, officer. You’ve been very kind.
Yeah, well, I’m a figure of your imagination after all. I do my best. Have another chip, sweetheart–balance out all that sweet.