It's four o'clock in the afternoon and I finally drag myself out of bed, my head pounding and introducing me to my second hangover of the day.  I decide to toss back a shot of whiskey in order to reduce the pain, but as I hear the glass shatter against the wall behind me, I realize that I probably should have tried drinking it instead.  I'm down one shot glass and now I have a mess to clean up.  It wasn't until I walked into the other room to get a mop and dustpan that I saw her standing there.

She was dressed in all red and her body showing more curves than a major league pitcher with a poor fastball.  Her legs, while only barely covered with the skirt she wore, seemed to go on forever.  Well, "forever" is more of a relative term since I was quite certain that her legs didn't venture past her knee because that would make them thighs, but I'm no doctor.  I made a mental note to look into that later.  She was the most gorgeous woman I had ever laid eyes on and at that moment, I wanted nothing more than to lay her down on my bed and show her my collection of bobblehead dolls and sock puppets.

"Can I help you with something, miss?" I finally managed, my hangover and my undeniable love for Big Bird consuming my thoughts at the moment.

"I have a case that I need solved and word around town is that you're something of a decent detective."

"Where on Earth did you hear that I was a detective, let alone one for hire?"

"Uh, it says so right on your door."

As she points over to the door to my office, I can't help but feel a little insulted.  Sure, my door does say "Detective For Hire" but didn't she know that it was rude to point?  Still, she had presented one hell of a case and I wasn't about to give the jury any time to deliberate.  I did the only thing I could do at the moment which was to slap her hard across the face.  I've never been real good at arguing.

"Look, I didn't mean to cause you any trouble.  I just thought that you could help me."

"I have a jetpack!"

"What?  You're talking nonsense."

I reached out and slapped her again.  I learned early on in life that you can't let people walk all over you.  She had already insulted me once and her last remark was bordering on a second.  If I didn't stand up for myself now and exert my dominance, she'd have me on a leash for the rest of my life.  Either that or she'd take my lunch money every day.  Well, I suppose I could be in a worse situation.  At least she wasn't Uncle Jerry, the Catholic priest.  I'm still wondering why he made me call him that since he was neither my uncle nor a real priest.

As she turned and began to leave, I felt a twinge of remorse pulsate through my body.  Either that or my diarrhea was acting up again.  "Hey," I said softly.  "Look, I'm sorry.  I never quite know how to act around women, especially men who pretend to be women, and I just had to be sure that you were on the up and up."  I took off the hockey mask that I was wearing and motioned for her to sit down at my desk.  Granted, it was nothing more than my kitchen table since my "office" was nothing more than my dining room, but if she noticed, she didn't let on.

She turned around and began to walk towards the offered chair.  I was tempted to pull it out from under her as she began to sit down, a prank I loved in grade school, but I figured that it wasn't quite appropriate here.  As she sat, she was pouting slightly and it was then that I noticed her full lips, the kind of lips that make collagen injections jealous.

"Now, what can I do for you?" I asked coolly, hoping that she didn't notice that I was standing in a litter box.

"I need you to find out who did this to me."

"Did what to you?  Bad cosmetic surgery?  Got you fired?  Framed you for an armed robbery that you didn't commit?  Consumating with a midget?"

"No, stupid.  This!" as she motions toward her eye.  "I need you to find the person who stuck this fork in my eye."

"Fork?  What for--"  It was true, she did have a fork sticking out of her eye socket.  "Oh, that fork.  I didn't mention it earlier since I just figured that it was your 'thing'.  Everyone has a thing these days and I don't claim to understand them.  Some get tattoos and others choke out Brazilian boys for fun and profit.  I really try not to judge."

"I appreciate your acceptance of odd social customs, sir, but I assure you that this is not my 'thing' as you so eloquently put it.  I am the victim of a vicious crime and I need your help in putting the people responsible behind bars."

"Wouldn't you rather see them in jail?" I asked.

"Are you honestly this stupid?" she yelled.

That's it.  Fork or no fork in the eye, that was a definite insult.  I launched myself across the desk and slapped her hard a third time, her left cheek now rosy from my repeated hand contact.

She clutched her stinging cheek and began to sob uncontrollably.  Well, out of one eye anyway.  I'm pretty sure that whenever a fork gets lodged in someone's eye, the tear ducts are one of the first things to go.  Again, however, I am no doctor.  I've done a lot of internet research though.  The only downside to internet research isn't the lack of factual information but more the ease of which I get side-tracked by people selling parts of Elvis on eBay.

She rose out of her chair as though she was going through something emotional and stormed out of my office.  "You are quite possibly the worst detective on the face of this planet," she yelled from the hallway.

"Oh yeah?" I yelled in return.  "Well, you smell an awful lot like peanut butter."  I licked my finger and made a sizzling noise as I ran it through the air.  "Score one for the Piz," I said to no one out loud.  Sure, she might be upset now but she'll feel even worse later when my retort sets in and she realizes that I got the better of her and that conversation.

But she'd be back.  They always do.  If not for the fact that most women can't stand letting me have the last word in, then because she left her purse sitting on my desk.  It's just as well that she left so quickly.  I was in no mood to do any investigative work today anyway.  Besides, I have a mess to clean up in the other room and a shot glass to replace at the store.  Oh yeah, and I am all out of milk too.