Lost the bet, Grossed out the Mrs.

My lovely wife Kris tries to engage me in conversation about work when I get home.  Understand… it’s not that I don’t like to talk with her; it’s just that some of the events are, well, not fit for the genteel.  She likes hearing the helping get the cat out of the tree, walking the old ladies across the street tales; perhaps an occasional dumb criminal story, where the worse thing the bad guy does is shout, “Curses, foiled again!”  However, there is not much appreciation for a real danger-blood-guts story; and I learned long ago to “sanitize” my speech.  But, just yesterday one slipped through. 

“Hi honey, how was work today?” 

“Fine” I was sounding a bit peeved because I had just lost a bet, and she noticed. 

“What did you do today?” 

“Oh, nothing” I have a hard time keeping a straight face, it was a sign for my wife to press further,

“Come on, tell me; what happened today?” 

“I… a… lost a bet with someone” was the cryptic reply; my brain was doing it’s best to send out ESP “don’t ask” messages. 

“Come on, tell me!”  She can be persistent.  Ok, give her just enough to let you go;

“I thought I found something at a crime scene, but it turned out I was wrong.” 

“What?” 

“Oh, nothing important”.  Stupid me, I already blew it, might as well tell her the whole thing; any more protestations will just make me sound like Bill Clinton.  

“OK, I thought I found a guy’s nose at a scene, but it turned out to be something else”.  She shrunk back, I might as well of said, “Yes dear, as a matter of fact I do step on baby chickens”.  Bummer of a day; first, I think that I found the nose, so proud of my detecting skill at the crime scene.  Then, at the autopsy, there the nose was, still intact in the usual position (of course not much else was).  So, I blew the nose (ha ha) identification thing, looking naive and loosing a lunch bet in the process; and now my wife thinks I’m half a step from being an axe murderer…

Curses, foiled again!