Hedging My Bets

You don't need Bunk and McNulty to find clues at this crime scene.

You don’t need Bunk and McNulty to find clues at this crime scene.

 

Have you ever been meticulously cutting your beautiful lawn, responsibly clad in noise-canceling ear muffs, then after you paused and went inside your house for a few minutes, you came back out and your largest hedge was completely destroyed, as thoroughly as after a barber shears off a big chunk of a high-top fade down to the scalp?

My bad.

Now remember, I’m only aware of this story because it was confessed to me by the lousy scoundrel who stole my car and plowed into said bushes.  The sinister fiend must have tried to pin it on me.  Anyway, from what he says, he was driving my car down the street like any other normal day.  As he approached the end of the street where it intersects into a rather busy main road, the bandit nonchalantly stepped on the brakes fifty yards or so away like he always did.  Or rather, like he would have always done had he gone that way before.

Only instead of easing to a slow stop, the car ignored the request.  Annoyed, the bandit pressed harder.  Still nothing.  Now frantic presses yielded the same results and the situation was getting serious as the car careened to the busy intersection at a good 25 mph.  Thinking quickly, the bandit swerved my car to the left into a four-foot high hedge that ran along the entire length of the last house on the street.  Beyond the hedge was a massive telephone pole, which was going to be the bandit’s last resort if the bushes didn’t break the vehicle’s stride, as it were.

The car’s progress was slowed inexorably as it quickly and mercilessly chewed up the perfectly-trimmed hedge inch-by-inch and finally stopped just a few feet short of the telephone pole and a massive collision, but not before every last leaf and twig had been obliterated to smithereens.   Now with the vehicle under control, the bandit swung the car around in a massive arc and headed back to my house.  I guess he wanted to give the car back to me.  Anyway he explained what happened and like the Good Samaritan I am, I hopped in another car and drove down the street to the scene of the botanical crime.

As I pulled up to explain the peculiar situation, who comes walking outside but Dr. Green Thumb, his soundproof ear muffs still on his noggin, whistling while he works like a dumbass.  Egads, I thought, the poor fellow was completely oblivious as to the garden-variety tragedy that had befallen his prized lawn.  How unfortunate. I immediately analyzed the situation and drove away as fast as possible.

Ten minutes later somebody stopped by my house and mentioned that there were cop cars at the top of my street, investigating an apparent hedge-icide.

“Good lord,” I gasped.  “Who on god’s green earth would do such a thing?”

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