Past Imperfect

Past Imperfect – #345

Evelyn: “What on earth are you doing in my apartment? And why are you holding my diaphragm case?”

Inspector: “Is that what this is? I thought maybe you were collecting those little Jewish hats. But since we’re on the subject, why is this case encrusted with rhinestones?”

Evelyn: “If you must know, I truly value those things which can help keep brutish men from dominating my life. So if I get out a glue gun and some sparkly bits to show my appreciation, you really shouldn’t judge me.”

Inspector: “Oh, I’m not judging, at least not yet. I was merely looking for clues, and I couldn’t help but notice this thing, shining away on your coffee table. Is that where you normally keep it? Do you really need that kind of quick access to such a device? What happens in this apartment?”

Evelyn: “That is none of your business. And my apartment is none of your business. Why are you here? Who let you in? I’ve a mind to call the manager and have you thrown out.”

Inspector: “Oh, don’t bother with that. The manager gave me the key. After all, we’re investigating the murder of the occupant in Apartment 6C.”

Evelyn: “6C? Something has happened to Alfredo?”

Inspector: “Well, yes, if you consider murder to be something. And the deed was done with a glue gun. And there was a trail of rhinestones which led to Apartment 6D, which is where we now stand. Are you following the logic of why we might need to be in your apartment?”

Evelyn: “Oh. Well, I loaned my glue gun to Alfredo. He had something crafty that he needed to do.”

Inspector: “Did he have his own diaphragm that needed bedazzling?”

Evelyn: “Perhaps. I’m certainly not one to point fingers, but he’s in a chorus line on Broadway, and you know those people like to give things a certain jazz-hands panache. And it’s entirely possible that one of his trysting partners was a bit more surly than expected and things got out of hand.”

Inspector: “Duly noted. Also of note is the message that Alfredo managed to cross-stitch into his high-end duvet as he expired on his bed. Would you care to hear his parting words?”

Evelyn: “I can’t imagine how those words would apply to me, but proceed if you must.”

Inspector, whipping out a notebook: “The bitch next door did it.”

Evelyn: “Who could he possibly be referring to?”

Inspector: “Well, there’s not an apartment on the other side of him, so…”

Evelyn: “I demand to speak to my lawyer.”

Inspector: “Understandable. But we’ve already spoken to him, and he had some interesting things to say.”

Evelyn: “Such as?”

Inspector: “That he’s no longer your lawyer.” 

Previously published Slight modifications made for this post, just a whiff of grammatical correction. No diaphragms or rhinestones were harmed during the making of this production. But the high-end duvet is suing for damages and emotional distress. I’ll keep you posted…

18 replies »

  1. You are sooo twisted. In a good way, mind. LOLed at ‘a certain jazz-hands panache’, snorted/inhaled my Pepsi most unbecomingly at ‘trysting partners and things getting out of hand.’ Crazy good.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I’m trying to imagine a death by hot glue gun🤔

    And if he had time to cross stitch a final note, why didn’t he do something to save his life??

    Perhaps he was talented in an artsy crafty way, but too stooopid to live and Evelyn performed a mercy killing? IF it was her… I’m not convinced.

    Liked by 2 people

    • I think you might be on to something. I’ll have to revisit this one in the future, from a different perspective, like the glue gun’s. (“I was innocently sitting in my little be-jeweled container, when suddenly…”)

      Liked by 2 people

  3. How very fraught with sub-plots and surprise twists and turns (if my guess is right, having never seen the film). I do know I’d be replacing my diaphragm (if I owned one), if I came home to find a fat, mildly unattractive and slovenly person pawing it. But I too am intrigued as to why it was on the coffee table in the first place and not stored discreetly away in the bedside drawer where it presumably lives most of the time. It seems an odd choice for casual conversations. Still uninvited and slightly soiled ‘paws’ upon it’s pristineness would render it useless for breaching the portal of one’s personal being. I guess that’s what comes though, of being a bit slovenly oneself and not putting things back where they belong, even if one had enjoyed the divan and the favors of neighbors who borrowed glue guns and didn’t give them back. I’d personally get better locks.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I haven’t seen this film, either. I’ve tried to track down more intel over the years, several times, but I have failed miserably in my research. All I remember about the “discovery” of the photo is that I was searching for movie stills of the actress Evelyn Ankers. She was somewhat under the radar, but I almost always score a fun photo when I search on her. When this one popped up, the story almost wrote itself (you know how my mind is) but the site I was on didn’t have any credits other than identifying her, and I’ve never found it anywhere else. Hollywood is a twisted web, indeed.

      But I agree that any personal accessory of mine that has been touched by an unimpressive man in a woolen coat is no longer coming anywhere near by special orifices…

      Liked by 1 person

    • Yes, I completely agree that glue guns are dangerous things to have around the house. (I burned myself once, and I’ve never used one since.) But your comment does remind me of another Past Imperfect that also involves a glue gun, so I’m off to dig in the archives and see if I can find it…

      Liked by 1 person

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