MY LUNCH HOUR

"So. What happened here?"
"Oh, Lieutenant, thank god you're here. It's horrible. Horrible."
"Alright, suck it up, officer, there's a lot of blood here, but it ain't Iraq. Tell me what happened."
"Well, the suspect was in the drugstore, over here in the Insipid Greeting Cards and Shitty Candy aisle, and that 'I Will Go Down With This Ship' song came on the muzak, and all of a sudden he screamed, let me get this quote right… Ah yes. He said, 'Clumsy trite little fucking metaphor, fuck this song and the whores that play it every eight fucking minutes.'"
"And then?"
"And then he opened a box of Bic pens and started carving people up. One witness said it was like he turned into the Hulk or Godzilla, some evil angry green thing. You know, it's odd how much blood a simple 29 cent pen can bring out of someone."
"Mhm. Is the suspect in custody?"
"That's him in the squad car. He's been screaming and beating his head against the interior of the vehicle for over an hour."
"He hasn't calmed down much, has he -- ooh, that's gotta hurt."
"Yeah."
"I hate that damned song too."
"It's unlistenable."
"Who does it? Dido?"
"Frankly, I've had no desire to even find out."
"You know, It's kind of justifiable, actually."
"The homicidal rage, sir?"
"Absolutely. My heart goes out to him. Listen. Clean him up, and take him home. Poor guy's suffered enough."
"With pleasure, sir."