The Party Was Murder

Writer's Cramp: Put one of your favorite TV personalities in your festives New Year's Eve parties. The genre is the Comical Murder Mystery.

The Party Was Murder

Pancakes and sausages. That's what we were having for our New Year's Eve party. I wrote that in every invitation, but would you believe the phone calls I kept getting?

Margot rang up first asking about the costumes. "Can't I just wear street clothes?" she begged, worried because her shaggy dog costume wasn't sexy.

"No," I told her and slammed down the phone, not because I was trying to be rude, but because the monkey got me all tangled up.

Jody called later that same day, demanding that we change the menu. "Nope," I said. "It's Jeff's birthday, and he wants pancakes and sausages."

"But, darling," Jody whined so loudly that the cockatoo screeched. That started the monkey chattering, which caused the alligator to roar, and then the snapping turtle bit the alligator's tail. Needless to say, I hung up on Jody. I had to quiet the animals because Cecil was napping -- it's a real headache to deal with a cranky baby gorilla.

Jeff, the cause of it all, walked into the room. "Problems?" he asked, stealing a carrot from the monkey.

The monkey didn't like that and went into her ape theatrics all over again.

I could tell this New Year's was going to be the death of me.

Throughout the next three days, phone call after phone call pestered me with complaints. I didn't topple. What's wrong with pancakes and sausages? And Jeff likes costume parties.

When everyone started complaining about Jeff's choice of birthday presents -- animal treats -- it was just too much. I was ready to scream.

But I couldn't. The phone rang.

"Hello."

"This is Sergeant Mahoney down at Universal City Police Department. It has come to my attention that there's going to be a murder at your house tomorrow night."

Of all the nerve! I slammed the phone down before the man could say another word. I wasn't fast enough; Cecil woke up. I diapered him and took him down to see his pet alligator. The little gorilla fed his pet a cookie and waited for the snapping turtle to come over. Turtles aren't known for good manners. The turtle took the cookie, and then splashed the alligator, Cecil, and me in the face with cold, swamp water. The alligator, of course, was after that turtle in a mad rush.

I remembered when life used to be less complicated.

The phone rang again. I tried to answer it, but Jeff grabbed it first. The monkey on his shoulders was waving a banana in my face. Cecil attempted to climb me so he could get it.

"A murder?" Jeff's face took on the expression of a monk who'd just found enlightenment.

Cecil shared the banana with the monkey and me. I ate a bite and shoved the other piece into Jeff's mouth.

As he chewed, I tried to listen in on the conversation, but Jeff chews everything louder than a bubble-gum popper. I couldn't hear a thing.

My husband set the phone down, lifted the monkey off his shoulders, and hugged me. "It's so wonderful. A psychic told that police officer that we're having a murder tonight at our party. Who do you think it will be? One of our friends? They really shouldn't do all that -- just for my birthday."

After Jeff's bear hug ended, I headed for the kitchen to assemble my costume and the pancake batter. I plopped sausages onto the baking sheet and then garbed myself in my costume: a chef's hat, a big, frilly pink apron, a sprinkling of flour to cover my face, and a bit of cinnamon on my cheeks. Then I started making the batter.

Jeff put the animals to bed for a nap and went up to slip on his costume. He was going to be an adult gorilla. Cecil would be so proud of him.

The doorbell rang, and, of course, the alligator roared. I hushed him, poured the first pancakes onto the heated skillet, and answered the door. I should have known. It was the police officer.

"Come in," I told Sergeant Mahoney and rushed to save the pancakes before they burned. I flipped them and asked the officer to answer the doorbell.

I stayed busy for the next thirty minutes flipping and flopping hotcakes. As the hordes entered, they grabbed cakes and sausages from the kitchen and went to stand outside with Jeff. He was having such fun jumping up and down onto the tables and benches. His gorilla grunts were remarkably believable.

I had just finished scooping up a fresh batch when Sergeant Mahoney entered the kitchen.

"Thank you for taking care of the door," I told him.

He grunted, sounding just like my dear Jeff, except not nearly as cute. I handed the man some sausages and cakes, but he put them down on the table.

"I need to wash my hands first," he told me gruffly.

I started another batch. I had just flipped those when I heard a scream and a gurgle, gurgle.

I handed out the platter of cakes, poured some more, and called in Jeff to watch them.

Poor Sergeant Mahoney had awakened the alligator. It would have been okay if he'd brought the animal treats I'd requested everyone to bring, but the policeman came bare handed.

Mahoney was right about a murder. But it made the old alligator very, very sick. He'd much rather have had cookies.

I called the police, even though Mohoney was already there, but we really didn't need them. The guests and Jeff solved the case before the black and whites pulled into the driveway. It was all amazingly good luck because the cops stormed into the house just in time for our New Year's Happy Birthday song. Some of the officers sang very nicely, so I fixed them pancakes and sausages.

That night, after all our guests had gone home, the animals were all put to bed, and it was just Jeff and me in the big double bed; my husband told me that it was the best party he'd ever had.

I was so glad he'd enjoyed his party, but it sure was murder to accomplish it.



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*This was written about Jeff Corwin, animal expert and TV star from the "Animal Planet." I wrote it, of course, when he was still alive.

I was very sad to hear of his death, but I hope he got a giggle over this strange tale up in Heaven's Animal Kingdom.