“Sometimes men don’t age gracefully, they turn into toads.”
“Sometimes women don’t age gracefully, they turn into nags.”
“Kindof like you?”
“She’s not a nag, she just cares.”
“That’s not what she says when you’re not around.”
Usually, there’s a group of people calling out who did what in which room with what weapon…and usually the person that did what they did in the room in which they did it with their weapon of choice didn’t have a witness…which is why we’re attracted to the game of clue, we get to follow the clues and in turn we get to solve the crime…on this night however, there was no crime of epic proportions (nobody died, but you should’ve seen the blood), there was however a culprit and of course a victim, but there was also a witness…which leaves all you readers clueless, unlucky for you, you can’t even sit in grand anticipation waiting to see if what you think happened really did happen…or maybe you can…although you’ve already been given the culprit, the room and the weapon. If you’re smart enough you’ve figured out who the witness is…which really only leaves one thing (and maybe a couple of associated items)…the victim and the injuries they incurred (which sadly enough there was no time for defense mechanisms to be put into place or utilized)…
It was a quiet evening at Blake Manor. Except for the sound of the wind wildly beating against the side of the house and the music of Country Bears coming from the TV, the house was void of noise. Baring the glow of the television and the light above the kitchen sink, the living room was encompassed with darkness. Cuddled in one the corner of the couch sat the aforementioned three characters, the culprit, the victim, and the witness. What was most likely an innocent act of unintended rage turned a seemingly undangerous sippy cup into a weapon of with the ability to cause mass injury (which was really just a fat lip, but since it was bleeding that can be considered mass injury).
Now, if this were a real life incident of the game Clue, our victim would have been found the next morning; injured not dead, (we’re going to let her live) by someone (you’re the detective so it can be you). There wouldn’t be a witness (as you’ve already been told there was) but there’d be clues for you to tend to. The weapon would have been found on the floor near the couch. There would be at least three culprits as there are three children who drink from sippy cups that were all incidentily at home on this particular night. Interviews with all possible culprits would have produced two ‘I didn’t do its’ and one ‘no’ nod. Reasonably, all three could have had motives for giving their mom a fat lip by throwing a sippy cup at her. Albeit, the intention wouldn’t have been to vindictively give her a fat lip so much as it would be to let her know that chocolate milk isn’t what they wanted or perhaps they didn’t want that particular cup. Now, as the detective, you could make two moves. Question our victim (who in this case could tell you exactly what happened, but for all intensive purposes of this story, is unable to speak of the event because it was so horrific that it’s been blocked from her mind. I’d say that her lip is too fat for her to speak but that’s too mean for me to say, especially since I spoke to her this morning and she spoke back.) So, you’re now down to one move…investigation. Let me help you out a little…more (for if you’ve paid attention, you’ve already been given a few clues). You look back in your handy dandy notebook to remind yourself that there are three kids that drank from sippy cups (let me fill you in that two of them only drink from them at night). In your mind you should already be on your way to the respective bedrooms of each of the little ones to look for sippy cups in their beds. You know by induction that at least two of them had to be in bed because it was ‘a quiet evening at Blake Manor’. As you go searching, you discover that today’s your lucky day! You find sippy cups in the beds of the 2nd and 3rd youngest children which only leaves one suspect behind. You decide that “it must have been the youngest in the living room with the sippy cup.”
Well done detective, you’ve proven what you already knew. Micah is the youngest, he was in the living room, and he did have the sippy cup. Just as the title suggested :)
Now that this mystery is solved, we can go on to ponder greater and more pressing issues. Like how the witness got a bruise on her left arm that same day.(Sorry Holly, had to throw that one in for you)
I’m sitting around a table with a group of ladies and we’re asked to rank ourselves in relation to risk. 1 being not at all risky and 10 being absolutely risky…we got everything from a 5 to a rounded up 10 (9.5 wasn’t acceptable). I was the 9.5 the .5 that I’m not risky is in matters of the heart. It’s the one place I don’t want to be hurt. But that is not the point of this story. Our homework was to do something risky…I don’t always follow directions, and this is one of those times…Being alive is a risk, and so instead of just doing something risky, I’m going to write my opinion of what we’re calling risky business.
We never defined what risk was, so in general, this is my definition :: risk is the possibility of a potentially bad outcome following an event. Sadly, for all living creatures, life is a risk. It doesn’t matter what you do or what you don’t do, there can be a bad outcome…you can go to sleep at night in what you think is your perfectly safe house and you can not wake up the next morning due to a horrible murder that took place the night before…risk…the solution, don’t sleep…again risk…let’s say you do get up in the morning, and you get ready for work, you decide whether you want to walk, bike, or drive…each option has it’s own risks…it’s lunch time now and you’re deciding what to eat…do you want the medium or well done hamburger…risk…as you can see, everything is a risk…every move we make, every breath we take…risk is all around…now, I know that’s a bit of a shallow view of the situation, especially since (even though it wasn’t said) we were probably talking about the unnecessary risks in life, but this is what I have to say about the unnecessary risks…
It’s not the risks in life that matter, it’s the end result that matters…which in my beady little mind is equivalent to curiousity…’what happens if’…what is it that we’re trying to obtain by taking the so called risk? What drives us to seek out the unknown? That’s the meat of the issue that matters more to me than the risk that I may or may not be taking…
Of course, there’s also the matter of how risky is the risk, perhaps that’s what we should be ranking, how risky are the risks you take? For example, I’m going sky diving for my birthday in the name of wanting to feel the adrenaline rush…the risk, I might not make it out of that experience alive…could i do something less risky to feel a similar if not the same rush, probably…but then this leads into a whole other thought that I have…if I’m going to die (which one day I will, and I’ll be taken when the Lord wants me, no matter what I’m doing), I might as well be doing the stuff I want to try regardless of the risks…
