The Detectives

(SCENE: Three detectives walk into the basement, where the girl is laying dead in the oversized bear trap. She's fat, but wearing one of those shirts designed so you look like you have a hot body. Semen (Light mayonnaise) is everywhere--on the cupboard, the bear trap, and even in the big pot of chili (big pot of imitation chili)--Gross!)

Detective one: The bear trap killer.

Detective two: That’s the third one this month.

Detective three (beating his chest in incredulity): When will people learn that if there’s a dollar in an oversized bear trap, they can’t just go all willy-nilly and pick it up?! (Sighing) The toughest part of a job--(pauses, looks thoughtfully at the bear trap)--is detecting things.

Detective two (Rubbing detective three’s back sensuously): I hear you buddy. The detecting. And the semen.

Detective one: Do you think if we just quit, anyone would notice?



(SCENE: The detectives are now sitting around a table at a diner, silently eating sandwiches. This goes on for several minutes.)

Detective two: Good sandwich.

Detective three: Yep.

Detective one: Mine has pesto!

Detective three: Eating sandwiches is much more fun than being a detective.

Detective two: You can say that again.

Detective three: Eating sandwiches is much more fun than being a detective.

(The detectives erupt in laughter. Milk shoots out of detective two’s nose, causing more laughter.)

Detective two: I say we quit the detecting racket forever--just eat sandwiches all day, every day, right here at this table. The Sandwich Club!

Detective one: Yeah, fuck detecting. Fuck it in the ear.

Detective three (beating his chest in excitement): Sandwiches!

(Outside the diner, a patron notices a dollar in an oversized bear trap. When he bends down to pick it up, it snaps shut, killing him. The detectives don’t seem to notice. Pan to guy in bear trap, bleeding to death.)