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Tuesday, September 18, 2007

Decision Time

"So it was a non-story?" K-Ro asked as he continued folding and neatly stacking my freshly laundered underwear into a perfect facsimile of the shops and taverns that lined the trading district of the village in which I was raised. During his brief tenure as my personal assistant, K-Ro had learned, with astonishing precision, how to read my moods, and he was trying to cheer me up.

K-Ro could tell I was feeling low by the stoic, somewhat arrogantly self-confident countenance I displayed. It is an expression I learned and adopted after carefully studying my close friend Bill Clinton during one of our frequent trips to Fat Rosie's, Bill's favorite Bangkok bathhouse. It is the look of a man struggling with a difficult decision.

"I'm not sure, bro," I finally replied, "You've forgotten the Scientology temple in the square."

"Oh my, silly me!" He squealed, quickly and expertly erecting the temple with several stylish leopard-print bikini briefs. Perfection.

"But Snoop Dogg wasn't dead, right?" he asked, surveying his work.

"No, just baked, bro, really baked."

I had just returned that morning from investigating a hot lead. Police had found Snoop Dogg lying motionless on property belonging to former NFL superstar Mike Vick. Assuming he was deceased, EMTs transported Snoop to the morgue, only to have him re-animate after receiving a quart and a half of embalming fluid. The story seemed like a dead-end, but I wasn't convinced.

"My source tells me Vick is still in custody," I said, "There must be more to this story." I looked at K-Ro. He was staring at me anxiously awaiting orders.

"Tell Danica to bring the car around," I said. I had made my decision.

"We're going to the Vick mansion."

"Oh, goody!" K-Ro squealed.

"Oh, and K-Ro," I said, "There may be trouble, so bring your Iphone, just to be safe." His face melted with grave concern.

"Set it to 'stun'," I added, trying to reassure my faithful servant. At that moment, my own Iphone delivered a telepathic surge announcing an incoming call. It was my source at the LA county jail.

I turned from K-Ro to protect the identity of my source and whispered into the phone.


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