Sunday, June 29, 2003

The case of the bird watching Iraqi (a dream)
I was attending a shindig at someone's house. It didn't seem strange that I had no idea whose house it was. It was a house, nonetheless. I was on the back deck drinking cola with my dad. We were anxiously awaiting a guest scheduled to come from Iraq. No one famous, mind you, or interesting in any way other than that he was an Iraqi. We were going to go bird watching with the Iraqi when he arrived. The party was boring.

The Iraqi finally arrived. He had long hair, which I found strange for some reason. Iraqis don't have long hair! Not on television, anyway. So there we have it, we all went out bird watching. Nothing interesting happened for a while. Fast forward...

We decided to take a break, so we went back to the house where the aforementioned party had taken place. But alas, a murder had taken place! A young woman who I didn't even remember seeing at the party was dead in the middle of the living room floor. The crowd stood around the dead body in awe-struck silence. Nobody said, but we all knew, this murder had the signature of the recently famous serial killer who had been at large. What was the signature? Nothing, really. Just how it was done. It had style. Did the Iraqi do it? Somehow that thought popped into my mind. Of course not, you fool, the Iraqi was with us the whole time.

After everyone but me and my father had left the room, apparently bored with the murder, I decided to look around. Nothing seemed out of place. No signs of a struggle. Then I found something: a folded piece of paper with a phone number on it. Just as I was about to throw away the pointless item, a memory hit me like a ton of bricks: the news broadcasts of all the other murders had all shown a piece of paper with a phone number on it! It was such an obscure background item in the shot that I was surprised I had remembered it. The police hadn't apparently considered it a valid clue. What should I do now? Of course, my curiosity got the better of me. I called the number.

After 3 rings, my grandfather picked up the phone.