Powder

"My gawd," Lead Inspector Ockten said, walking carefully through the plastic draping and shaking his head. "Look at this place." "Worst we've seen, but not the first we've seen," Detective Harris commented. "Over here." In the living room, an ornate mirror had been laid flat on a fake fur ottoman, its surface strewn with black powder and a couple of razor blades. "Is that what I think it is?" Ockten asked, pulling latex gloves out of his pocket and putting them on. "Yes," Harris responded, "if you're thinking that's a whole crap ton of powdered Girl Scout Cookies." "Thin Mints," Ockten said, shaking his head. "Judging by the smell," Harris added, "but samples were sent back to the lab for confirmation." "How many this week?" Ockten asked, moving around the room. "Eleven ... so far," Harris answered. "It's a goddamn epidemic," Ockten muttered, irritated. "Probably time to talk to the mayor about a public campaign. Any boxes left in the house?" "Uh ... no," Harris said. "Not ... not that we ... we've recovered." Ockten looked at him, hearing a disturbing awkwardness in his voice.

Diary Pages: Danuta Veyuvic

Shoes