Blind Justice Round Robin

[Deleted]

I'm utterly baffled, as usual.

[Deleted]

maggiethecat said:

ashatan said:

So . . . major karma to anyone who can write us out of chopped-up mannequins covered with blood and brain matter (ugh!).

There. I said it.

I don't even think Capote could get us out of this one. There.... I SAID IT!

[Dreamfire]

The moment Detective Jim Dunbar entered the squad room that morning he knew something was not right. The room was icy, as though the heating system had suddenly gone on strike during the night, and there was an odd smell in the air. Beside him Hank whined softly, his ears laid back.

“Hello?” Jim called out. “Karen? Boss?”

Silence. A door banged somewhere in the distance.

Suddenly, the air was split by a shrill scream.

Quickly, Jim’s hand went to his hip; then, of course, he remembered his gun was at home in the nightstand. “Shit,” he muttered. “What now?”

A moment later Karen entered the squad room complaining, "I took a shower and suddenly there was no hot water!"

"What's that smell?" Jim asked.

"Why do you think I was showering here, as if I didn't already shower at home today?" Karen groaned. "And now I'm freezing my butt off from the icy shower and apparently there is no heating in here either."

Jim tried to hide a smile but failed miserably and started laughing while Karen groaned and moaned about showers and dumpsters and being jinxed.

Then Marty arrived. "Is Sonny here? I smell dumpster. Dunbar, you really need to get a better class of--" Marty broke off, mid-sentence, stifled a snort, then said appreciatively, "Karen? You're..."

"Don't you even think about finishing that sentence!" Karen snarled.

"Ooo! Feisty!" said Marty.

Jim felt something nudge his arm. He had a sneaking suspicion that it might have been an elbow. Marty's elbow. Then Marty whispered, loud enough to make sure Karen could hear, "She's wearing a towel."

Behind his dark glasses, Jim's eyebrows crawled northwards. "A towel?"

"Uh, huh. Looks like a refugee from a Miami beach holiday. It's got a picture of a palm tree and a beach umbrella. Must've been some vacation, huh, Dunbar?"

"Zip it," Karen snapped as she headed back to the shower room to get dressed.

As he listened to Karen's footsteps disappearing down the hall, Jim noticed Hank getting restive. He could feel it through the harness. "What's the matter, boy?" he asked. Hank whined again in response.

"It's gotta be that smell," Marty said. "It's getting worse. What is it?"

"I have no idea," Jim replied, shaking his head. "Where d'you think it's coming from?"

"I dunno. Let's check it out. "

Jim had Hank follow Marty as the other detective made his way toward the locker room. The smell became worse, if that was possible. He was just thankful that the heat was off because he was finding that it was taking almost all of his self-control not to gag. Even worse, he had smelled something like this before. He swallowed hard, trying to ignore the sweetly rancid odor as he searched his brain for the memory. Hank whined, straining at the harness.

"What's the matter, Dunbar? Dog afraid I'm gonna find his secret stash of Milkbones?" Marty laughed.

Jim shook his head. "No, Marty, I think he's reacting to that dandruff shampoo of yours," Jim said, mirroring Marty's sarcasm.

Marty stopped short, causing Jim to almost crash into him. "What the?..."

“What?” Jim nudged. “Marty!”

Marty opened his mouth but no words emerged, just a random bunch of syllables.

“It's a man," Karen stopped, she looked at the dirty man huddled in the corner, “ a street guy,” she dropped her voice.

Marty stepped forward with his handkerchief over his nose. “What you doing here?”

“I found this.” The man held out a bundle toward the three detectives.

The tension rose several hundred notches. “Okay, pal, you just stay where you are, just stay where you are.”

Jim nudged Karen.

“He’s got a grenade and a … a hand.”

[Dreamfire]

Okay, I tried again.

divinemrse said:

maggiethecat said:

ashatan said:

So . . . major karma to anyone who can write us out of chopped-up mannequins covered with blood and brain matter (ugh!).

There. I said it.

I don't even think Capote could get us out of this one. There.... I SAID IT!

[Deleted]

ashatan said:

Okay, I tried again.

Thank you, sweetie; I felt a sour stomach coming on as I read it.

[rducasey]

bjobsessed said:

How do you know the other members are stumped until someone tries? Most shows have an episode that's a little off the wall especially around Halloween. We never got to see what they may or may not have done around that time. I may not be participating in this, but I am reading it and would like to see where it goes.

Just as someone is free to write this, so is someone free to take it in a different direction.

Karma Anita, I say "run with it". Anyone can turn it around.... it could be a joke , a hoax....I've been going to get into it, but haven't had an inspiration yet. But I will....."I promise"

Oh and a suggestion. Maybe when someone adds to it, they could Bold Print the addition to the story. Oh wait, I may have had an inspiration. Nah...maybe later.

[Colorado girl]

The moment Detective Jim Dunbar entered the squad room that morning he knew something was not right. The room was icy, as though the heating system had suddenly gone on strike during the night, and there was an odd smell in the air. Beside him Hank whined softly, his ears laid back.

“Hello?” Jim called out. “Karen? Boss?”

Silence. A door banged somewhere in the distance.

Suddenly, the air was split by a shrill scream.

Quickly, Jim’s hand went to his hip; then, of course, he remembered his gun was at home in the nightstand. “Shit,” he muttered. “What now?”

A moment later Karen entered the squad room complaining, "I took a shower and suddenly there was no hot water!"

"What's that smell?" Jim asked.

"Why do you think I was showering here, as if I didn't already shower at home today?" Karen groaned. "And now I'm freezing my butt off from the icy shower and apparently there is no heating in here either."

Jim tried to hide a smile but failed miserably and started laughing while Karen groaned and moaned about showers and dumpsters and being jinxed.

Then Marty arrived. "Is Sonny here? I smell dumpster. Dunbar, you really need to get a better class of--" Marty broke off, mid-sentence, stifled a snort, then said appreciatively, "Karen? You're..."

"Don't you even think about finishing that sentence!" Karen snarled.

"Ooo! Feisty!" said Marty.

Jim felt something nudge his arm. He had a sneaking suspicion that it might have been an elbow. Marty's elbow. Then Marty whispered, loud enough to make sure Karen could hear, "She's wearing a towel."

Behind his dark glasses, Jim's eyebrows crawled northwards. "A towel?"

"Uh, huh. Looks like a refugee from a Miami beach holiday. It's got a picture of a palm tree and a beach umbrella. Must've been some vacation, huh, Dunbar?"

"Zip it," Karen snapped as she headed back to the shower room to get dressed.

As he listened to Karen's footsteps disappearing down the hall, Jim noticed Hank getting restive. He could feel it through the harness. "What's the matter, boy?" he asked. Hank whined again in response.

"It's gotta be that smell," Marty said. "It's getting worse. What is it?"

"I have no idea," Jim replied, shaking his head. "Where d'you think it's coming from?"

"I dunno. Let's check it out. "

Jim had Hank follow Marty as the other detective made his way toward the locker room. The smell became worse, if that was possible. He was just thankful that the heat was off because he was finding that it was taking almost all of his self-control not to gag. Even worse, he had smelled something like this before. He swallowed hard, trying to ignore the sweetly rancid odor as he searched his brain for the memory. Hank whined, straining at the harness.

"What's the matter, Dunbar? Dog afraid I'm gonna find his secret stash of Milkbones?" Marty laughed.

Jim shook his head. "No, Marty, I think he's reacting to that dandruff shampoo of yours," Jim said, mirroring Marty's sarcasm.

Marty stopped short, causing Jim to almost crash into him. "What the?..."

“What?” Jim nudged. “Marty!”

Marty opened his mouth but no words emerged, just a random bunch of syllables.

“It's a man," Karen stopped, she looked at the dirty man huddled in the corner, “ a street guy,” she dropped her voice.

Marty stepped forward with his handkerchief over his nose. “What you doing here?”

“I found this.” The man held out a bundle toward the three detectives.

The tension rose several hundred notches. “Okay, pal, you just stay where you are, just stay where you are.”

Jim nudged Karen.

“He’s got a grenade and a … a hand.”

" Whoa!", exclaimed Marty, " I've got a date with a really hot blond that I met a week ago, and

I want to live long enough to enjoy it."

"Mister, please, gently put the grenade down", Jim quietly and calmly commanded.

"We either need to run like hell , or somebody needs to inspect it." Karen whispered as if

that would make a difference.

"Okay", Marty responded,"Rock, paper, scissors."

[maggiethecat]

The moment Detective Jim Dunbar entered the squad room that morning he knew something was not right. The room was icy, as though the heating system had suddenly gone on strike during the night, and there was an odd smell in the air. Beside him Hank whined softly, his ears laid back.

“Hello?” Jim called out. “Karen? Boss?”

Silence. A door banged somewhere in the distance.

Suddenly, the air was split by a shrill scream.

Quickly, Jim’s hand went to his hip; then, of course, he remembered his gun was at home in the nightstand. “Shit,” he muttered. “What now?”

A moment later Karen entered the squad room complaining, "I took a shower and suddenly there was no hot water!"

"What's that smell?" Jim asked.

"Why do you think I was showering here, as if I didn't already shower at home today?" Karen groaned. "And now I'm freezing my butt off from the icy shower and apparently there is no heating in here either."

Jim tried to hide a smile but failed miserably and started laughing, while Karen groaned and moaned about showers and dumpsters and being jinxed.

Then Marty arrived. "Is Sonny here? I smell dumpster. Dunbar, you really need to get a better class of--" Marty broke off, mid-sentence, stifled a snort, then said appreciatively, "Karen? You're . . . "

"Don't you even think about finishing that sentence!" Karen snarled.

"Ooo! Feisty!" said Marty.

Jim felt something nudge his arm. He had a sneaking suspicion that it might have been an elbow. Marty's elbow. Then Marty whispered, loud enough to make sure Karen could hear, "She's wearing a towel."

Behind his dark glasses, Jim's eyebrows crawled northwards. "A towel?"

"Uh, huh. Looks like a refugee from a Miami beach holiday. It's got a picture of a palm tree and a beach umbrella. Must've been some vacation, huh, Dunbar?"

"Zip it," Karen snapped as she headed back to the shower room to get dressed.

As he listened to Karen's footsteps disappearing down the hall, Jim noticed Hank getting restive. He could feel it through the harness. "What's the matter, boy?" he asked. Hank whined again in response.

"It's gotta be that smell," Marty said. "It's getting worse. What is it?"

"I have no idea," Jim replied, shaking his head. "Where d'you think it's coming from?"

"I dunno. Let's check it out."

Jim had Hank follow Marty as the other detective made his way toward the locker room. The smell became worse, if that were possible. He was just thankful that the heat was off because he was finding that it was taking almost all of his self-control not to gag. Even worse, he had smelled something like this before. He swallowed hard, trying to ignore the sweetly rancid odor as he searched his brain for the memory. Hank whined, straining at the harness.

"What's the matter, Dunbar? Dog afraid I'm gonna find his secret stash of Milkbones?" Marty said and laughed.

Jim shook his head. "No, Marty, I think he's reacting to that dandruff shampoo of yours,"Jim said, mirroring Marty's sarcasm.

Marty stopped short, causing Jim to almost crash into him. "What the?"

“What?” Jim nudged him. “Marty!”

Marty opened his mouth but no words emerged, just a random bunch of syllables.

“It's a man." Karen said and looked at the dirty man huddled in the corner. "A street guy,” she said, dropping her voice.

Marty stepped forward with his handkerchief over his nose. “What you doing here?”

“I found this.” The man held out a bundle toward the three detectives.

The tension rose several hundred notches. “Okay, pal, you just stay where you are, just stay where you are.”

Jim nudged Karen.

“He’s got a grenade," she said. "And a . . . a hand.”

"Whoa!" exclaimed Marty. "I've got a date with a really hot blond that I met a week ago, and I want to live long enough to enjoy it."

"Mister, please, gently put the grenade down," Jim quietly and calmly commanded.

"We either need to run like hell, or somebody needs to inspect it," Karen whispered, as if that would make a difference.

"Okay," Marty responded. "Rock, paper, scissors."

"Mornin', Howie," Lieutenant Fisk said as he strode down the hall toward the homeless man. "What you got there?"

Mutely, the man held out the hand.

"Russo, go get an evidence bag-- what are you staring at?" Fisk laughed and said,"The grenade? Hell, Howie's been carrying that thing around since Vietnam. Haven't you, Howie. None of you Sherlocks notice it's all rusty?"

"I did," Jim said, straightfaced.

Fisk stifled a snort and rapped out, "Bag this, someone. And let's get Howie into Interrogation One, bring him a cup of coffee, and find out where this came from."

[Deleted]

rducasey said:

bjobsessed said:

Karma Anita, I say "run with it". Anyone can turn it around.... it could be a joke , a hoax....

Maybe, but as our brilliant admin so eloquently pointed out: "...within reason, and taking into consideration your fellow board members who will try to follow what you have posted. Taking it in a direction that stumps the other participants is a sure way to stop the game!"

Okay? Okay.

[mlm828]

The moment Detective Jim Dunbar entered the squad room that morning he knew something was not right. The room was icy, as though the heating system had suddenly gone on strike during the night, and there was an odd smell in the air. Beside him Hank whined softly, his ears laid back.

“Hello?” Jim called out. “Karen? Boss?”

Silence. A door banged somewhere in the distance.

Suddenly, the air was split by a shrill scream.

Quickly, Jim’s hand went to his hip; then, of course, he remembered his gun was at home in the nightstand. “Shit,” he muttered. “What now?”

A moment later Karen entered the squad room complaining, "I took a shower and suddenly there was no hot water!"

"What's that smell?" Jim asked.

"Why do you think I was showering here, as if I didn't already shower at home today?" Karen groaned. "And now I'm freezing my butt off from the icy shower and apparently there is no heating in here either."

Jim tried to hide a smile but failed miserably and started laughing, while Karen groaned and moaned about showers and dumpsters and being jinxed.

Then Marty arrived. "Is Sonny here? I smell dumpster. Dunbar, you really need to get a better class of--" Marty broke off, mid-sentence, stifled a snort, then said appreciatively, "Karen? You're . . . "

"Don't you even think about finishing that sentence!" Karen snarled.

"Ooo! Feisty!" said Marty.

Jim felt something nudge his arm. He had a sneaking suspicion that it might have been an elbow. Marty's elbow. Then Marty whispered, loud enough to make sure Karen could hear, "She's wearing a towel."

Behind his dark glasses, Jim's eyebrows crawled northwards. "A towel?"

"Uh, huh. Looks like a refugee from a Miami beach holiday. It's got a picture of a palm tree and a beach umbrella. Must've been some vacation, huh, Dunbar?"

"Zip it," Karen snapped as she headed back to the shower room to get dressed.

As he listened to Karen's footsteps disappearing down the hall, Jim noticed Hank getting restive. He could feel it through the harness. "What's the matter, boy?" he asked. Hank whined again in response.

"It's gotta be that smell," Marty said. "It's getting worse. What is it?"

"I have no idea," Jim replied, shaking his head. "Where d'you think it's coming from?"

"I dunno. Let's check it out."

Jim had Hank follow Marty as the other detective made his way toward the locker room. The smell became worse, if that were possible. He was just thankful that the heat was off because he was finding that it was taking almost all of his self-control not to gag. Even worse, he had smelled something like this before. He swallowed hard, trying to ignore the sweetly rancid odor as he searched his brain for the memory. Hank whined, straining at the harness.

"What's the matter, Dunbar? Dog afraid I'm gonna find his secret stash of Milkbones?" Marty said and laughed.

Jim shook his head. "No, Marty, I think he's reacting to that dandruff shampoo of yours,"Jim said, mirroring Marty's sarcasm.

Marty stopped short, causing Jim to almost crash into him. "What the?"

“What?” Jim nudged him. “Marty!”

Marty opened his mouth but no words emerged, just a random bunch of syllables.

“It's a man." Karen said and looked at the dirty man huddled in the corner. "A street guy,” she said, dropping her voice.

Marty stepped forward with his handkerchief over his nose. “What you doing here?”

“I found this.” The man held out a bundle toward the three detectives.

The tension rose several hundred notches. “Okay, pal, you just stay where you are, just stay where you are.”

Jim nudged Karen.

“He’s got a grenade," she said. "And a . . . a hand.”

"Whoa!" exclaimed Marty. "I've got a date with a really hot blond that I met a week ago, and I want to live long enough to enjoy it."

"Mister, please, gently put the grenade down," Jim quietly and calmly commanded.

"We either need to run like hell, or somebody needs to inspect it," Karen whispered, as if that would make a difference.

"Okay," Marty responded. "Rock, paper, scissors."

"Mornin', Howie," Lieutenant Fisk said as he strode down the hall toward the homeless man. "What you got there?"

Mutely, the man held out the hand.

"Russo, go get an evidence bag-- what are you staring at?" Fisk laughed and said,"The grenade? Hell, Howie's been carrying that thing around since Vietnam. Haven't you, Howie. None of you Sherlocks notice it's all rusty?"

"I did," Jim said, straightfaced.

Fisk stifled a snort and rapped out, "Bag this, someone. And let's get Howie into Interrogation One, bring him a cup of coffee, and find out where this came from."

After Marty escorted Howie into interview room one, Jim turned to Fisk and asked, “What’s the story with this Howie, boss?”

“Howie? Oh, he’s been around for as long as anyone can remember. The story I heard, he volunteered for ’Nam when he was nineteen, and he was never the same after he came back. Post-traumatic stress, you know?”

Jim nodded. Yeah, Fisk thought, Jim would know about post-traumatic stress. He continued, “People tried to get him some help, but he always ends up back on the streets. Still, I never heard of him being violent.”

“You don’t think – ?”

[rducasey]

divinemrse said:

rducasey said:

Karma Anita, I say "run with it". Anyone can turn it around.... it could be a joke , a hoax....

Maybe, but as our brilliant admin so eloquently pointed out: "...within reason, and taking into consideration your fellow board members who will try to follow what you have posted. Taking it in a direction that stumps the other participants is a sure way to stop the game!"

Okay? Okay.

Ah, but not necessarily. I'm thinking of that old TV contrivance...the dream. It can always all be a dream and they wake up and take it elsewhere.

[maggiethecat]

I've been off the old "it was all a dream" contrivance ever since Bobby Ewing stepped out of the shower. Heh.

[rducasey]

maggiethecat said:

I've been off the old "it was all a dream" contrivance ever since Bobby Ewing stepped out of the shower. Heh.

Hahahaha. Or my favorite, Bob Newhart waking up in bed with Suzanne Pleshette.

[Deleted]

maggiethecat said:

I've been off the old "it was all a dream" contrivance ever since Bobby Ewing stepped out of the shower. Heh.

Oh, yea, you get a karma for THAT one!

[Chris]

I kind of liked the mannequin story-line and I would love to see how it would have turned out. (Maybe someone will write that story sometime...hint, hint )

But I'm not sure I would have been able to contribute to it. On the other hand, I was already stumped with the smell, had no idea of what could have caused it, so maybe I just don't have the imagination needed for fanfic writing

Now, back to the Howie story, this is so funny, "Rock, paper, scissors." and None of you Sherlocks notice it's all rusty?"

"I did," Jim said, straightfaced.
Karma Lindy and Maggie for making me laugh out loud ;D

Take care and keep smiling
- Chris