Not really a murder mystery, but I've been perusing through my old Hercule Poirot stories and it's just fun when he screams, in David Suchet voice, of course, "MURDER!"
The mystery I'm referring to in this instance is, of course, the sudden disappearance for more than twenty-four hours now necessitating a search and rescue operation... of the interns' Cancer Institute logbook! That precious logbook, containing endless thrills in the form of your intern stalkees' cell phone numbers, those puerile but fun doodles, and most importantly, the much treasured ever-growing list of residents and fellows nominated to be cast down to hell in a form of a really fugly effigy washed in gasoline to be burned--BURNED!!!--come the ceremonious May 1 Sunog! I might be one of the suspects, being a fixture in the building and stuff, except that I know that I'm not in the evolving Sunog list, because I know, I know, because... I've taken a peek! While the intern-on-duty was busy inserting an IV line to a totally veinless chemo-fied dehydrated patient!!! Now I'm implicating myself more!!! AHAHAHAHAAHAHAH!!!!
I didn't do it. And I wasn't on the list not because I'm totally lovable, but because... nobody knows who we are! Because we're just these expressionless, zombified Hellows lugging around chemicals and stuff who only have one thing in our minds: when can I go home. AHAHAHHAH. AHAHAHAAHAH!!!!
So there. Now that I've totally ruled myself out maybe the right suspects would be fingered. I'm not even sure if the verb "fingered" is right, it doesn't sound right, in fact it sounds totally bastos, I'm just translating directly from Tagalog, ie, turo. Obviously I am writing this in the event that something bad happens to me, because I know, I know..... The List.