Framing
On 2017 September 1st by montyFrom the top? Okay, officers.
I weren’t even anywhere near the bank at the time. Which bank? And when was this again? This morning? No, certainly not this morning. Why would I need to go to the bank so early? Nobody goes to the bank that early, especially not me. Besides, I don’t even know which bank you’re talkin’ about.
Oh that bank? Well, if it was that bank, then I definitely didn’t do it, didn’t do nothin’. Never even been to that bank.
My shoes? Oh, no, I never wear shoes. Never? Well, no, not never, but never today, never this morning.
Oh those shoes – yes, well, of course I was wearing those shoes today. They got my name in them, look at that. Of course those’re my shoes.
No, I certainly didn’t dump them nearby the bank! Why would I have cause to do that? Who just dumps their- y’know what? I do recall something. This morning. I was walkin’ down by the river, you know, introspective. I’m an introspective guy. Deep thinker. Academic. Anywho, I was down by the river, yes, with my shoes on; there’s mud down by the river, wet. This, um, child, like an urchin or some-such, he comes up to me and he says, please, mister, please? I says, whaddaya want ya little, um, blessed child? And he looks at me, says he needs ‘em for, for, well, his aunt, no! His uncle had an interview, see. Well, you know what? It was at the bank. His uncle, this kid’s uncle, had an interview at the bank, and could he maybe please borrow my shoes.
How old? What? The uncle? I dunno, didn’t say. Oh, the kid? Well, how old’re kids these days? What, I gotta keep track of this kind of thing? Look, officers, I was robbed. Don’t know what we’re doing here, this kid is out there somewhere with- well, not with my shoes, but he didn’t return ‘em, no sirs. Gave him the shoes, says, five minutes, I wait twenty. No kid, no uncle, no shoes. I was on my way home when you fellers picked me up. Now that you have so kindly returned them to me, I guess I’m good to go?
No?
Well, what do you. What? Well, ‘cause they’re nice shoes. What? I like ‘em! No holes. They ain’t exactly spit-shine black like yourses boots, but they ain’t scuffed or nothin’. What, no! I paid for these! Yes, a-course they’re mine, I wrote my name on the inside. Well, so’s nobody confused ‘em for their own shoes. It could happen!
No, officers, I don’t know how they ended up in the garbage pail. I certainly didn’t put them there. How what? How did I, well, it was a guess! What else would I, would you, one, would a person dump something in besides a garbage pail? I can’t even imagine why a person would- what blood? Oh, that blood? Well, um, lemme think. Uh, maybe his uncle had a nose bleed?
Look, I’m innocent, see? I’ve been framed!
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