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Rated: E · Short Story · Contest Entry · #2265343
He finds the evidence. So what?
The Detective
WC 298


I found the evidence cleverly hidden in the cabinet under the kitchen sink in an empty Swiffer Wet refill box.

"I am good at what I do," I say, holding out the box to my wife. "Nothing gets past me."

"That’s a fact,” she says.

I am one of the best in the business, and she knows it. I have stood for Truth Justice and the American Way for twenty years.

We sit at the kitchen table with the box between us.

"Have you been lying to me? All this time. Every time I ask you--"

"No!"

" No? I have the evidence."

"Evidence? It's not illegal anymore."

She has a point.

"Just confess!"

"Not to something I didn't do," she says. "Who else lives in this house, John? Think!"

My mother has been living with us for three months. It started out as a one-week visit. She scares the living bejeebers out of me-- and always has--so I can’t ask her to leave as much as I want to.

"My mother?"

"Did I hear my name?" she calls from the hallway.

I throw a terry towel over the box.

"We wondered if you wanted to go to Yogurtini with us?"

My wife clucks like a chicken as she hands me the evidence.

"Sure, I'll get my sweater," Mother says from the hallway.

I put the Swiffer Wet refill box back under the sink and grab my car keys.

I'm still trying to get my mind around the fact that my mother is a closet pot smoker!

If it was still illegal, I could have taken her down to the station and booked her. I could have gotten her out of our house for a few days until she could make bail. But no...

Darn Liberals!

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