(This is my attempt to use a phrase in the passive voice! Grammar was never my strong point!)
It’s terrible. There was blood from one end of the bathroom to the other. Rosina’s body was on the floor. The rest of us had gone to the pub for the evening and left Rosina home because she had a chemistry assignment to finish as part of her university papers.
Rosina was a bit of a nerd. She never took part in any of the fun the rest of us students had. We would get most of the academic stuff out of the way by the weekend, so we could party. I admit, there were some recreational drugs, but it was pretty harmless. Rosina had threatened to report us, but she never did.
This weekend we were all at the pub except for Rosina who stayed in the shared student apartment to do her chemistry paper. The body was found when we got home.
Anyway, the bathroom was cleaned. Rosina was put in the chest freezer for a bit until people sobered up.
To listen to the story being read click HERE!
Was Rosina dead?
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She can’t’ve been if the bathroom was cleaned!
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She’s gonna be mighty cold when she wakes up.
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It’ll suit her personality.
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Still waters run deep…what do you think all that blood was about, all over the bathroom?
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Clearly Rosina was a Chemistry Major who had Asperger Syndrome, and when she exceeded the boundaries of common behaviour her friends would put her in the freezer (unplugged)… or something.
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My niece from Canada is begging for closure on this one. Could you perhaps bring Rosina into another post which might throw some light onto what really happens in that share apartment?
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No good dragging the niece into it – face it, Auntie Yvonne, you want to know yourself. AND I never shall tell!
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My cover is blown, drat it.
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Heck, Yvonne, Bruce himself has no idea what happened….
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I am not God. (Contrary to popular belief).
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I know that, but Yvonne does call you Bruce Almighty…
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What! Oh, Cynthia, I am shocked beyond belief. But, I’ll get over it. I already have, in fact.
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I am almost offended that you should get over it so quickly.
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I just said that to placate Cynthia, Bruce Almighty.
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Thank you, O Aunt Subject!
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Cynthia would have made a good PI. The passive voice works for this story. It’s as though the boys are avoiding something – the truth, I’m guessing.
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Thank you, Susanne!! I feel saved!
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Nothing wrong with your grammar! I’m liking Cynthia as a PI, she’s on to it isn’t she! I bet someone’s feeling a bit uncomfortable now they are all sober…………… although I see the story has developed somewhat in the comments section – I wonder where these thoughts might lead …….
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I’m not sure what a PI is – apart from the circumference of a circle thing π – Police something I presume????
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Private Investigator. Susanne refers to the boys, but I don’t know that there are necessarily any boys in this story. The boys are in the accompanying photo,( and lord knows what they’re up to) but nowhere in the story does it mention boys.
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Now you have me LOL-ing! Your private investigating – determining boys or girls – has certainly gone down to the privates.
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Private Investigator
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I’ve never seen it before! Thanks. I clearly have not read enough Agatha Christie or Ngaio Marsh!
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I don’t read murder mysteries…occasionally watch on TV. And now you won’t believe me but it’s true….when I was fifteen my Dad went bankrupt and abandoned the funeral business. He retooled and was certified as a PI which is what he had always wanted to be; he would talk incessantly about the strange things involving the cases he investigated. He used to refer to a Private I.-Private Eye as a Dick….. 🙂
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I rather like a good murder mystery, although the last one I read was “Scales of Justice” by Ngaio Marsh – and that was in 1967 (from memory). Your father certain brought a great deal of color to your rearing. My father was a jockey, plumber, hotel proprietor, farmer, housing inspector. Nothing as exciting as a PI !
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We have in common entrepreneur fathers… there was no getting into a boring rut, but at the same time…..a sense of security? At one point my father did shows onstage as a magician and hypnotist. I loved playing with the props when I could sneak a chance. I didn’t love my job of being in charge of cleaning up after “Happy” our pet rabbit that he used to pull out of his top hat, or the two trained doves that would be rolled into the space of a golf ball so they could be hidden up a sleeve.
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Is that how they do it? Roll them up? When I was school librarian, and they used library cards, for new pupils I would do a card trick and ask them to pick a card. And after throwing the cards around a bit there was one card landed in front of them and it was their library card. The student was always stunned, and I was always pretty pleased with myself.
But now – I’m feeling sorry for the doves. 😦
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They’re trained to do it…they do it themselves, putting their heads down into their wing feathers and curling-up into themselves….ours were named Duffy and Toy….
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Today’s commentators are full of stuff I never knew. (And I read on another blog where Dumas was black. Was he? And Pushkin?)
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I suspect it came out of the US via Mickey Spillane or some such ….. whom I have never read, though I did devour Agatha Christie’s when I was in my teens, in between chunks of Shakespeare and Dickens and the like.
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Oh – I’m getting so educated these days. I’ve never heard of Mickey Spillane until now.
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My best guess is you really haven’t missed much.
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No – but I hate being ignorant.
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Happy Friday to you too, Bruce! 😀
Poor Rosina…
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Thanks! It’s already Saturday mid-morning here!
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Yes! Of course it is. I have a good friend here in Blogland who is also NZ, but I always manage to forget the time difference. Still haven’t got used to the difference from the U.S. to the U.K., and it’s been almost three years!
Enjoy your Saturday!
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Thank you Maria!!
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Sounds like a very practical student-thought-out solution. But then they are students with only half formed brains.
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Sounds like the wisdom of a professor!
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At last I’ve sussed it. Your stories are no more than a prompt to set Cynthia off
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😀 Cynthia certainly adds an element of gold to the discussion!
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Yuck
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