My day began with murder. Actually . . . it began with a frappuccino . . . it just moved to murder.

1530 hrs: The phone rings. Sigh . . . Dead guy on the railroad tracks . . . Go check it out and decide if Homicide Investigators are needed. Sigh . . . Take last sip of frapp. At least the guy who found the body waited until I'd managed to get a sufficient dose of caffeine in my system. 

1600 hrs:  Dead guy on the railroad tracks. Yep . . . he's dead.   Hmmmmmphf . . . looks like it might be a murder . . . glance at watch . . . glance at sky . . . looks like rain . . . load a tape in video camera.

1620 hrs: Take short movie to document crime scene . . . occasionally feel sorry for investigator/judge/jury/lawyers/spectators who may have to take Dramamine to view movie.  (I don't see Spielberg hiring me any time soon.) Continue to film . . . focus on body . . . focus on flies . . . focus on tattoos . . . trip over railroad tie . . .

1640 hrs: Begin to photograph scene. Walk to intersection 500 feet away to begin shooting. Snap . . . snap . . . oh shit! Am almost hit by car . . . snap snap . . . notice partner who is beside dead guy waving his arms excitedly. Hmmmmm . . . what would cause Old Fart to behave so strangely?  Hmmmm . . . notice train light in distance . . . notice heavy rain coming our way fast. Oh shit . . . we're about to get wet . . . or run over . . . or both . . . Snap . . . snap . . . snapsnapsnapsnap . . . snap . . . . Run down tracks toward body . . . snap . . . trip . . . stumble . . . snap . . . stumble . . . snap . . . Beat rain to body . . . snap . . . snap . . . snapsnapsnapsnap . . . Note that train in distance is not moving . . . Oh yeah . . . duh! Union Pacific is holding up all trains until body is removed . . . 

Rain arrives . . . grab up the most fragile evidence before the rain washes away the blood . . . SAVE THE CAMERA!!!!!

Go to truck for umbrella . . . shoot pictures in rain . . . wonder at the joys of automatic focus . . . Weeeeeeeeeeeeee . . . happy me . . . automatic focus allows me to shoot with only one hand since other hand is busy holding umbrella.

Rain stops. More Railroad investigators appear . . . Homicide investigator arrives . . . Medical examiner arrives . . . M.E. turns body over to allow a more thorough investigation.  Hmmm . . . victim is a Poor Dresser. Lesson for the Day: Friends and Neighbors, NEVER go out in public wearing clothing you wouldn't want to be seen dead in. 

Watch them bag body and appreciate the fact that we don't work for M.E.'s office. Nope . . . bagging bodies is NOT in my job description. Wonder what Old Fart and I are eating for lunch.

Inform Old Fart that Princess is now HUNGRY and wishes to eat before we start report.  Old Fart is also hungry.  Decide that only sick people discuss lunch while others are bagging a body.  Shrug . . . go eat barbecue.

2000 hrs: Get call on Stinker in Apartment. Crap!  (Still working on murder!) Crapcrapcrap! Crapity crap crap crap! Oh well . . . save report in computer and drive to Stinker . . .

Yep . . . it's a stinker.  Body has decomposed to point where gases have swelled him up and he looks like the Michelin Man. Note that he is leaking and making really loud freaking noises.  Old Fart snickers at me and backs out of room with hand over his mouth and nose.  Want to follow Old Fart outside.  Sounds like body is about to burst so "Make it quick!"  Old Fart stays outside while I snap pictures.  Holy Shit . . . all that noise IS coming from the dead guy.  Imagine this:  a tea kettle just about to blow, rice crispies in milk, the boards of a ship creaking . . . THAT'S WHAT A BLOATED DEAD GUY SOUNDS LIKE!!!!  (As God is my witness . . . I have never shot pictures so fast in my life.)  That, Friend, is stress . . . Focus . . . shoot . . . snap . . . creak . . . whistle . . . whine . . . focus/shoot . . . snap . . . creak . . . whistle . . . whine . . . focus/shoot/focus/shoot/focus/shoot . . . creak . . . whistle . . . whine . . . creak . . . fly lands on head . . . . fuck focus! . . . just shoot! Shoot/shoot/shoot/shoot . . . 

Go outside with Old Fart . . . Sit in air-conditioned truck with Old Fart and shoot him ugly looks while he giggles at me.  Watch Medical Examiner and Body Car attendants come down to get stretcher.  Old Fart and I thank Everything That Is Holy that we do not have to load Body That Is About To Pop onto that stretcher.  Sit in air-conditioned truck and decide that I stink.  Smell very much like Stinker upstairs. Watch M.E. and Body Car attendants come back down with dead guy in very large red body bag.  Note that they have abandoned stretcher and are bumping him down the stairs.  Old Fart points out that bag is filled with liquid and is behaving accordingly.  Thank God again that we don't have to do that and decide that NO AMOUNT OF MONEY could induce us to take on that job. Note that M.E. and Body Car Attendants are slightly green.  As we roll out of parking lot, Old Fart rolls down window and advises M.E. that he is doing a fine job.  At that point, I greatly appreciate the fact that Medical Examiners are not armed.