A la Mode

“So you didn’t see a gun?”
She folds her hands in her lap. “I already told you, no.”
“And you didn’t hear a shot?”
She sighs, “No.”
“But you say you were there, in the room, when the shot was fired.”
“Well, Larry, I was eating apple pie and vanilla ice cream. You know how I get when I’m eating a delicious desert.”
“Honey, please refrain from using ice cream as an excuse, again. And another thing, ice cream does not make it difficult to hear such a thunderous distraction as a gun shot!”
“You know Larry, last week in my yoga class a woman was talking about a car accident she was in. The moment her car made contact with the wall she blacked out. Don’t scoff at me. It was shock. Maybe I was in shock when the gun shot went off.”
“Listen, Muffin, I am a detective. There was a murder, you are the only witness, and you are telling me that you can not say that you saw or heard a thing that happened in that room because of PIE?! Oh, hello, Captain. You got here fast.”
“That’s enough, Detective.”
“Sir, meet my wife.”
“Are you an a la mode man, Captain?” she asked coyly.

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