| Saturday, January 03, 2004 |
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Sheepie Rags: It Wasn't Me! The Bug Says
Early this morning, the suspect, known simply as the Bug (Age and sex unknown - when asked by this reporter, it only said wistfully, "I just wish I was old enough to have it.") was caught by the police and interrogated. This reporter was present (Always present where it matters!) at the station to bring you the latest news.
"It wasn't me," the wretched Bug trembled. In fact, it was shaking so hard it almost shook itself out of its shell. "It really wasn't! It wasn't any of my friends either. We were out pubbing that day! Ask the bouncer at Zouk!!"
"We'll see," said the policeman menacingly.
"Excuse me..." the victim spoke up.
"Yes, mam?" asked the policeman, bending down to hear her better.
"Maybe it's chicken pox?" she suggested, feeling just a tad sorry for the poor Bug.
"Are you not sure it's that THING over there??" the policeman opened his eyes wide in disbelief at the compassion in the victim's eyes.
"Well, there're so many...we could get a doctor to look at them," she said, with uncertainty, a little scared by the maniac, bloodthirsty look in the his eyes.
"Very well," the barrel-chested policeman said solemnly. "Your wish is my command. Summon a doctor to examine the witness!" He boomed.
The doctor, a kindly woman, who kept pictures of her children on the walls of her office, looked closely at the angry bumps under a contraption that was a combination of a bright white light and a squarish magnifying glass. "Hmmmm," she pondered. "Those on the back look like chicken pox. But those on the face and arms...well, maybe she scratched them too much so they've gone out of shape." She wasn't sure.
"So is it chicken pox?" the policeman asked, impatient.
"There's a 60 to 70 per cent chance that it is. We'll just have to wait and see on Monday. I'll prescribe her medicine as for chicken pox."
"Oh, alright..." the policeman could barely hide his disappointment. He glared at the Bug, handcuffed helplessly to the table. "I will see you again on Monday. You better behave," he intoned slowly, authoritatively.
The Bug trembled and nodded until it twisted its neck, or wherever its neck was supposed to be.
Last seen, the victim was giving the Bug a sympathetic look.
This reporter hurried out of the station as soon as she could. The Bug stank like...well, a Bug.
Sheepie Yap © reporting for Sheepie Rags © |
posted by esther @ 9:25 PM  |
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