Sunday, November 25, 2012

This has all the makings of a fantastic Lifetime movie.


Conversation between me and Emily. She's that Asian that wrote about pumpkin pie last year. And I still have no idea how she eats pumpkin pie with chopsticks...but I digress.

Me: After you're done brunching you should stop over and check my basement for murderers. Please? This is not a drill.

Emily: ...are there typically murderers in your basement?

Me: Not usually, but the outside door to the basement was open when I got home yesterday so I'm pretty sure there are murderers in there now.

Emily: At least they're being nice and staying in the basement and not coming upstairs to bother you...

Me: That's true. But I really need to do laundry and I feel like they're just too lazy to bother breaking into the main floor.

Emily: Maybe if you just throw your laundry down the stairs, they'll wash it for you.

Me: That's actually a good plan. Unless they wash them with poison that will kill me slowly. The cops would never figure it out.

Emily: Do you have poison detergent down there? Or is it more of a BYOP deal?

Me: Definitely BYOP. You think I have high-tech slow-killing poison detergent laying around???

Emily: Well, if their plan is to kill you with slow-killing detergent, then you should be safe to go down there. No knives?

Me: I'm not saying that's their plan. Killing someone slowly with detergent isn't as much fun as slicing and dicing. Probably.

Emily: Probably. But they just bring slow-killing poison detergent JUST IN CASE? That seems impractical.

Me: Maybe they were Boy Scouts. Aren't they supposed to always be prepared???

Emily: Murderous Boy Scouts?!

Me: I don't know! I just know this is totally unfair. I'm super nice about murderers. I'm totally pro-Dexter.

Emily: But you're not a bad guy.

Me: So...you're saying I should kill someone? So they make me part of their murderer club instead of killing me?

Emily: ...yes.

So now I'm pretty sure this murderer thing is just an elaborate scheme by my friends to get me to commit murder and end up in jail forever because there's no way I wouldn't get caught. I'm just not sneaky enough. Which means I have terrible friends. Or a little too much imagination for one person. One of those.

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