Morton was a fiddler in the gadgetry sense. He could fix anything. He could make anything. He could invent anything. Somethings were useful; some were not. The silliest thing he made was probably “A box of birds”. A little white box with a button sat on the coffee table. Next to the button was a little sign that said “Press me”. Guests would press the button and recordings of birds emanating from all over the room suddenly began to play. Loudly. If the guest had been left alone in the room while Morton was out making coffee for the guest, the pressing of the button could prove to be a hilarious humiliation!
Morton more often than not was the one who was out making the coffee because his wife, Catalina, was useless. She never lifted a finger to help. In fact Morton was often left alone to entertain visitors. Enough is enough! Morton decided to construct the perfect murder!
He took an old cell phone, removed its innards, and replaced the inside with a poisonous dart. There was nothing to show that it wasn’t a phone. The next time he was out shopping with Catalina he spied a tourist near the village green and asked if they would be so kind to take a photograph with his phone. Of course, the tourist was most obliging. “Just that woman over there. I don’t want to get caught photographing her, because I’m a spy and she’s some sort of foreign government agent. Just point the phone at her and press the button.”
“A spy! Which button do I press?” asked the tourist.
“That one there,” said Morton, leaning over the phone and pointing.
Morton is a gadget man no more.