Rigor mortis had not yet set in, though the flies were taking a definite interest. The body lying in the ditch on the side of the road was that of a deer morph. He had heavily beamed antlers, a thick swollen neck, and a gleam of passionate fire in his lifeless eyes. Clearly, he had died in a rut.
"Eeeeew!!" exclaimed the coroner. "What a mess!" Staring forlornly at the red ichor coating his latex-gloved hands, he wiped off the remains of his jelly donut and returned to work.
The deputy nodded sadly as he watched on.
"Shouldn't we be in a morgue?" queried the medical man.
"No, we're quite alive, it is the deer that is dead."
"Cut off a hunk of meat for me!" shouted a nondescript bystander.
"You have no steak in this," replied the detective. And the deputy nodded sadly.
The inspector's eyes were attracted to the two distinct tire treads spanning the ruptured torso of the lifeless corpse. Shaking off the romantic thoughts that instantly flooded his mind at the stimulating sight of the tread marks, the gumshoe returned his attention to his duty. "Are there any donuts left?"
The deputy nodded sadly.
"Damn," the detective said, patting his bulging waistline. "I've been working too hard lately."
The deputy and the coroner both nodded sadly.
"Well," mused the officer, "I guess there is nothing for it." And with that dramatic pause, he grabbed one of the remaining donuts. Noting that there were too few of the delectable pastries for the remainder of the evening, he placed a call to Dunkin' Donut's for reinforcements.
Scratching a bit of cream from his chin, the inspector remarked, "We should begin to reconstruct this crime. Deputy, take that buck morph right there, and run him down."
Nodding sadly, the deputy climbed into the squad car, with tires squealing and issuing great gouts of smoke, he ran over the nearest deer morph who just happened to be the donut delivery girl. There was a tremendous crash, and huge clouds of confectionery sugar and red gibbets of donut gore spread themselves over the shocked onlookers.
"What a terrible waste of doe!" the medicine man lamented.
The deputy nodded sadly.
"That's not a doe, that's a buck!" the policeman said as he strode over to the scene of carnage.
"How can you tell?"
"Look at that pair of doe-nuts," the bobby pointed.
Of course, the deputy nodded sadly.
After examining minutely at the still warm and giggling cadaver for fifteen minutes, the coroner pronounced authoritatively, "It is a
distinct possibility, that this may indeed be a male."
The deputy's lower jaw nodded sadly.
"But this one is not in a rut," the inspector observed.
"The tire tracks do match," some one from the crowd exclaimed.
"Shut up," cried the private dick. "I do not need help from amateurs. I am looking for a clue."
"I haven't got one," said the deputy.
"I knew that," muttered the Texas Ranger.
After carefully investigating the rut for a week and a half, without pausing to use the little men's room, the killer's calling card was finally found; it was from AT&T and was carefully glued to the bak of the license plate lodged firmly in the deer's left nostril. "Frink" said the license plate.
"That's incredible," burst out the shaman, "usually you have to read these things."
"I have to go to the bathroom," added the deputy.
"Shut up," said the inspector. The deputy nodded sadly with his lips and legs pressed firmly together. "Go get some more coffee," added the RCMP, "it'll make you feel better."
"With only one frinking clue, how do they expect me to solve this case?"
"Well, you could use the other clues," suggested the medicine man.
"What do you think I am, bucking for a promotion?" snorted the captain.
"Maybe we ought to start interviewing witnesses," the Deputy proposed timidly.
A nondescript bystander from the crowd interjected, "I saw the deputy hit the deer."
But another one immediately shouted him down, "I spotted the Sheriff, but I did not spot the Deputy."
A gerbil exploded from the crowd, "Frink!"
"Eeeeew!!" exclaimed the coroner. "What a mess!"
"You already said that," the NKVD man pointed out.
"I smell a rat," the Commissioner said.
The typist scurried downwind, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to!" The non-giggling corpse curled its lips in disgust, which dislodged the driver of the vehicle from the other nostril.
The coroner pointed in excitement. "Wait! Let's search the other nostril now that it is open!" But it was empty.
The inspector sighed and strolled leisurely across the road to the wrecked car in the other ditch. Idly, he picked deer hair from the front grill. "I think we are still in a rut."
"Wait, if there are all these ruts around here, maybe Frink is in one of them." And sure enough, there he was, and he was dead too. It turned out to be Lee Moor Frink, but they left him for another day, another story.
"Are we done yet?" asked the giggling corpse. "I'm feeling a bit run down."
"No," said the other corpse flatly.
"Somebody had a smashing good time last night, but it looks like the buck stopped here."
Just then, a sudden wind came up. "Sorry," exclaimed the rat morph as everybody glared in his direction.
In the aftermath of the odiferous blast, a guy in a bathrobe arrived and muttered, "Cleaning deposits, late fees, and tire treads." He then removed the buck costume from the rutted corpse, revealing no doe-nuts this time.
"Hey," the deputy exclaimed, "Somebody tried to pass a counterfeit buck."
The inspector said, "Shut up, I'm looking for a clue."
"You still don't have one?"
The coroner nodded sadly.
"So much for the standard Jon Doe case," the detective muttered.
"I know, this is what happens when you run out of doe-nuts," the shaman pointed out.
"Frink!" shouted a voice from the crowds.
"He's in the other rut," the Fed snapped. "One case at a time."
"Of donuts?" asked the Deputy hopefully.
"I forgot my line," The crossing guard lamented as he leaned on the Derksen Industry's logo on the wrecked car.
"That's okay, it was mine anyway," the Deputy said as he nodded sadly.
"What we really need is a line on the killer."
"I'll get a fishing pole," said the deputy.
"Don't bring Fish into this, he isn't here this year, and we all miss him very badly," said the generic authority figure.
And everyone nodded sadly.
"Back to business," declared the ATF agent. "I think we need to look at this case differently. Just why did the buck cross the road?"
"Maybe he was playing chicken?" somebody suggested hopefully.
"What a fowl idea!" the man in black muttered indignantly.
"I think our investigation just laid an egg," said the Commandant.
"Sorry, my fault again!" apologized the rat.
The Deputy nodded sadly as he buckled his knees.
"Aren't you going to arrest anybody?" shouted a nondescript man from the crowd. He was getting annoying.
"How about a rest?" suggested the Deputy.
However, duty was calling, the stormtrooper noted as he checked the caller ID on his phone. It was time to bring this case to a conclusion. If only he could find one. The corpses were getting restless and kept trying to wander away. He knew that he was going to have to do something soon; he could only hold them so long without charging them.
Someone suggested that the writers be arrested, but they threw that idea out on general principles who spent the next two weeks trying to get the smell out of his uniform.
"Sorry!" said the rat. "It won't happen again."
And so in the end it happened, the buck was arrested for counterfeiting doe, the doe was arrested for counterfeiting bucks, and the rat was sentenced to serious time for dis-odorly conduct, as well as for corrupting the minds of minors by typing this story. And the Deputy finally sought relief in the Mad Scientist's Lavatory, but that too is another frinking story.
And all the authors were promptly run over by a Derksen Industries truck. "Yaaaaaaay!" And the Deputy nodded happily.
The following people were arrested during the course of this story. Some were seriously injured.
Linnaeus T. Racoon
Dennis Van Quaethem
The Dragon DeMonsyne
Last Updated: Sat Mar 6 2004 22:13:49