I felt it the moment I awoke this morning. It was an odd feeling, not the usual Monday morning dread, this was different. Even the air was still. Something was wrong but what? The house was silent but there was a feeling about it. I put my robe and slippers on and cautiously walked out to the living room. So far nothing appeared to be out of place.
I glanced up at the wall clock. 7am. Soon the trash truck would be coming by. I thought for a minute… No, that wasn’t it. I remembered putting the trash out at the curb last night. Then, as I rounded the wall to the kitchen I saw it. Mr. Coffee was dead. He just sat there on the counter, slumped over, lifeless. My first thought was to not touch anything. If this was not a natural death, I didn’t want to contaminate anything. I’ve seen enough cop shows to know that much.
What’s the matter with me, of course it was a natural death, who would want to murder Mr. Coffee? I looked around the kitchen, still leery of touching anything. I could see the electrical cord still plugged into the outlet, but there were no lights on or blinking. There was a slight hint of an odor, but that was probably normal around a body.
I slid open the junk drawer and took out a Sharpie, a small note pad and some string. I was going to have to make a toe tag, but as I stood so close to the counter, I noticed grounds scattered around. “Wait a minute… was there a struggle? Maybe I was wrong to jump so quickly to natural causes.”
No, I couldn’t let my mind run amuck with these kinds of thoughts. I was going to have to transfer him to a barstool and use that as a gurney and roll him out to the curb before the trash people come by.
Hardly a fitting end,
I know. No service, no words, just kick
him to the curb. But hey- what can I
say? I haven’t had my coffee yet, and it
didn’t look like I was going to.
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