I'm just now going over my personal social media history to see what the cops and/or detectives would find if I were to either suddenly be murdered or if I were, in fact, accused of the same crime. I'm looking because just a few minutes ago, while watching another (yet another) episode of "Killer in my Village", a popular UK video series, I watched as the detectives in that show used the killer's social media history to prove his guilt. Yes, that would certainly do it for me. Let's see, the cops would open up my Google history...and wow. First thing: "How long does it take for anti-diarrhea meds to kick in?" That's a good start.
The subsequent damning inquiry: "Who killed Claire in Colston Bassett?" Answer? Oh, of course, an ex-partner. She went online to date, and there you have it. After divorcing and deciding to get back into the swing, she met up with a man almost half her age, thinking things could be fun -- he killed her. Next up? "Why do Dachshunds burrow under the covers but sleep on the top of the back of the couch?" That's gotta be damning; at least curious. Fourth, fifth, sixth, and ninth entries were so much more interesting. "What poison isn't detectable?" "How deep should I bury a metal object if I don't want it detected?" "Does everyone's Ring camera go to their phones?" and lastly, "How many murders have gone unsolved in Oklahoma?" Yes, so much more telling.
The tenth entry, bless my own heart, was something very near and dear to my soul, but it had nothing to do with murder -- "Is the OU football season over at this point?" The answer is yes. Yes, it is, because Alabama decided to show up and turn on its best game. We, on the other hand, did not. But enough about the sorrows of sports and back on track -- am I murdering someone, or am I the victim? It's plain; plain as day. The Dachshund did it -- and right after he did, he needed something to help him with his diarrhea. He's a clever dog, that one. His typing could use a bit of work, but he did manage to do me in before taking over my computer, apparently.
If you were a detective in this town, you'd know straight off that I don't own a Dachshund. I must be the killer! Well, in a way, I suppose I am. I murder a lot of people, and sometimes I murder people I had no intention of murdering, but their demise fits in with the structure and soundness of the plot of whatever book I'm writing. To really get a glimpse of who I am and how I think, you'd need to read my texts to my best friend Jeannie — God help her, I hope she never has to surrender her phone to anyone with legal authority. She'd have to explain me.
Because I'm a writer, and a macabre one at that, I do have to search things online. I watch videos to get ideas, too, and that being said, no one has the right to steal my Dachshund thing, OK? Yeah, you leave that right where it is. I'm still developing it for another book. I haven't decided. What I have decided to do is to preface my books with yet another disclaimer that reads, "You'll laugh at times, but try not to laugh too hard. I may not have tried to be funny, and that would be just a little too embarrassing." What I think in my head may or may not be what others think, see, experience, hear, or understand. I can't explain me - I just am...you know, me.
Right now, I'm thinking I may change the entire premise of the book "Cumberland" and make it about an author who is writing a daring and ruthless murder mystery, but she's stuck at times, and has to pretend and go through the fake motions to give her mind a reason to kick into the right gear. She sees things that aren't there, and naturally, she thinks it's natural. She's out there trying to connect to her inner, darker, murderous side, but she needs baking soda, orange juice, pistachios, and cat food before the stores close for Christmas.
I don't know what angle I'll choose. It could be an unfortunate and mournful novel, or it could take on a rather dark but humourous edge to it -- did you see where I used an extra "u" in "humourous"? What in the world is going on in my brain? This isn't a British book -- or is it? I am watching "Killer in my Village", so yeah, that whole language adjustment could have just slipped into my skull just now. What I do know is that if I am ever questioned by a judge, a police officer, a defense attorney, or the prosecutor, I may have to smile and let them know that I have a few books written now; I can prove my madness. I'm not sick in the head, just an interesting author.
I don't drink alcohol. I don't smoke tobacco or anything else. I used to smoke rolled-up Earl Grey tea because I could, and it made people look at me in wonderment. (That was before pot was legal) I don't sleep around; in fact, I sleep on about 17" of my bed, no matter what size bed it is, because the other portions of my bed have been taken over by canine and an occasional cat. I don't date. I chose a long time ago not to do it, and thank God nearly weekly for that choice. When I watch these videos and am reminded that the partners, spouses, and ex-spouses and partners are usually the ones who end the victim, it means I made the right choice.
Still, and I mean this, if anyone read through my social media history, they'd have to raise their eyebrow(s) at least a bit. If they, on the other hand, read my blogs, or trudged through the endless boring images I post on Facebook and Instagram, they'd wonder if I had any sort of personality at all outside of loving my fur-faces. I smile when I think about that. I smile because, yeah, I do have quite an extraordinary imagination, and I always have had. It's been my constant companion for over six decades now. I know that no matter where I am, or what is happening, I am never alone. I don't get bored. How could I with all these voices in my head? (See, that sounded odd, didn't it?)
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