“I came as fast as I could. I was frying air when central called.”
“Frying air?”
“Yes.”
“How do you fry air?”
“You know how a hair drier dries hair? An air fryer fries air. I got a new air fryer. It fries air to a crisp.”
“I see. Your grammatical logic is impeccable.”
“So what happened here?”
“A murder.”
“And I suppose that this is our victim, lying on the floor, covered in blood?”
“No, that’s Sergeant Fox, resting after a mishap with a ketchup bottle. The victim is over here.”
“Ah. What does the coroner say?”
“Apparently, our victim died doing he loves best.”
“And what’s that?”
“Masturbating.”
“Ah, yes, that would explain the hand down the pants, and the ridiculous smile on his face.”
“No, I’m afraid that’s a congenital feature.”
“You mean to tell me that this man was born with his hand down his pants? It must have been a difficult birth.”
“No, I’m talking about his face.”
“Yes, babies are born with a face. Nothing special about this.”
“I’m actually talking about his facial expression.”
“How do you figure that it is congenital?”
“For one thing, the smile was not momentary, look at his badge. [Shows the badge.]”
“Good god! This man has the worst case of resting clown face that I have ever seen. But how do you know it was congenital? It could have been the result of plastic surgery gone wrong.”
“Look at this. Forensics reconstructed the man’s face as a child.”
“Ah yes, even as a child, he looked like a cartoon clown.”
“And look at this. Forensics even reconstructed the man’s dog.”
“A balloon dog! A balloon dog for a clown checks out.”
“Forensics also reconstructed the man’s wife.”
“What gives? I see a blank piece of paper.”
“Exactly. He never married.”
“I see.”
“The kicker is that his wife looks exactly like his goat. Look!”
“You’re showing me the same piece of paper.”
“Yes, that’s because he never had a goat either.”
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