A short-lived romance…

Okay, people –

I hate to be negative, but I must admit that things are going bad.

The stakeout turned up some information, what Elliot thinks is evidence (but I disagree). Anyways, he had to question someone and I was there and now things are probably ruined between me and the future Mr. Me.

So, I did what anyone would do. I made a sad mix, re-read the handfuls of texts we exchanged and ate my pain.  I might still be doing all of that because I feel terrible. His eyes when he saw me in that interrogation room – heartbreaking.

Back to our regular programming – Thanksgiving is coming up. The annual Running of the Turkeys, a Logansville event that I have yet to trace the roots on, but I suspect it has something to do with the early settlers and peyote.

Over the weekend, our friend Lucha, (remember him, he liked spandex and Speedos?) let 680 of them loose. Animal Control, the local branch of the SPCA, and a few other organizations I’ve never heard of gathered to round them up but there are still five dozen unaccounted for and Old Lady Gigham hasn’t been seen lately.

You know what that means – old lady with a shotgun in the wilds of Logansville. Stay indoors, in Kevlar if possible – and just wait this one out. Seven people have already reported to Doc Williams for “flesh wounds” and other injuries. No one will go on the record and say who did it, though after “talking” with Gigham when she caught me in her trash, I can’t say I would go cross her either.

Let’s hope this isn’t setting the standard for the week.

Excuse me while I go eat a box of doughnuts, in a public and protected area.

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