The Demise of McCracken
Down at the end of
Austin’s Brook Lane
where the stone bridge
crosses the water
was where it happened
all those years ago.
In this town it’s like
it was yesterday.
It’s the topic of discussion
at the drop of a hat.
Opinions stretch out
and muscle in for room.
This run of opinions is diverse
much like the candy
carried in that box by
that young Forrest Gump.
Never heard tell that
anyone actually eyeballed
the nefarious happening on
or near that bridge,
but theories and innuendoes
come by barrow full.
Some are close to possible,
others just make you pee
When a town is this small
and everyone thinks they
know ALL of your business
its hard to keep a secret
let alone pull off something like this
in the dark of night
and think boney fingers
aren’t going to start pointing.
Many a fist fight and hissy fit
have been at the end of
one of those damned accusing boney fingers
and what’s funny is those boney fingers
belong folks famous for early to bed,
sleep like a fermented log
and early to rise.
Their position is that supposition
must be kin to observation
and if enough of the boney fingers
point in the same way
well, that ought say something
to that donut eating Sheriff or at least
to his dim witted but eager Deputy Dan.
In the Sheriff’s defense,
he does have quite stack of evidence,
photos’ interviews, depositions
and the like sitting right there in plain view,
but for safety sake it’s all stamped
EVIDENCE- DO NOT TOUCH,
A sure sign that it will draw
more eyes than a ten cent burly show.
Endy Sue Baker knew that pile
of hands off stuff as well as she new
all the songs in the church hymnal.
She fancied herself a size 16
Nancy Drew and would never dream
of taking on an unkilled partner.
You remember young Dan,
the dim bulb Deputy?
Seems he was a bit sweet on Endy Sue,
It might have been those
she would fetch him
straight out of the oven.
Anyway, the dashing Deputy
and the pseudo-sleuth
decided to team up and
set about solving this ice cold case,
finally putting the boney
damned fingers to rest.
Their partnership was real hush, hush…
here’s a good spot for a wink!
Our girl Endy was a dilettante
in chemistry and had developed
a method for keeping dufus Dan in line.
She had managed to create a Toll House
cologne that was teasingly light
but delivered nothing.
Our Mensa Deputy never got wind of
the fact that he was just getting wind.
Armed with the spotty collection
of evidence and a desire to be
small town heroes they
headed down Austin’s Brook Lane
just after dusk so as to raise no suspicions
with the rumor inclined populace.
After all the time that had passed
what did they hope to find that would
pull all of the sketchy evidence together?
Having reached their destination
and crossed over the stone bridge they
found this to be quite pleasant
little plot of land that gave off no
eerie sense that something nefarious
had ever occurred there. Endy pulled out
the hand drawn map of the purported
crime scene and walked the perimeters
as delineated on the map.
Deputy Dan was reading over
hastily scribbled notes taken by the
donut eating Sheriff all those year ago.
It would seem that one Jerry McCracken
had been found face down and pants down
in a patch of fescue. There were no outward signs
of a struggle and no foot prints or tire marks
to indicate that he was not alone.
For all accounts and purposes
this McCracken fellow was a well liked
member of the community who lived alone
in the old family home he inherited
when his folks passed.
He did not own a car, he bicycled
everywhere he went and always had
a friendly ring of his bell as he passed.
One would have to assume that he was not
one who had stacked up enemies.
If you are a fan of CSI on television
I can tell you right now that the
evidence collection on this case would have
made Gil Grissom stranger than usual.
With little to go on Endy’s intuition
had to come to fore. As she looked around
she noticed a huge bee’s nest in the
hollow of an old tree and
it was just buzzing with activity.
With this piece and that piece
of sketchy evidence she put together
a theory that nobody to discount without
performing an exhumation of old McCracken’s body,
and in a town this small that was highly unlikely
to happen. Anyway, here’s Endy’s theory
as she shared with Deputy Dan.
McCracken had ridden his bike out to the brook
for some piece and quiet and while there
the urge hit him in a fashion that was not to be denied.
Once he dropped his pants he was stung by
one of these highly industrious bees. Nobody, including
McCracken himself knew that he was
highly allergic to the bee venom and it
dropped him like a load face down in the fescue
and the urge he had felt went unanswered.
Submitted furtively to the Anything Goes challenge (I hope somebody stays with it to the end)
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