Professor Lambert ripped down the yellow police tape and opened up the door to the sorority house bathroom. He stepped inside and was instantly struck by the sight of the blood stained wall.
“Oh no,” the professor said.
The Professor leaned town over the broken stall wall, which was still lying on the floor. He took out his cell phone and snapped several photos of the scratch marks on the door.
“No!” the Professor said. “Not again!”
The professor pulled out a rolling paper, then sprinkled some Mississippi Mud bud onto it. He then rolled a tight joint, stuck it in is mouth, then lit it up with a cigarette lighter.
“Aww yeah,” the professor said. “That really takes the edge off.”
The professor snapped a photo of the bloody wall. “These people have no idea what they’re in for.”
The bathroom door swung open. Rusty walked inside, sipping on an ice cold frappuccino. The office stopped in his tracks when he spotted the professor standing in the middle of the crime scene.
“This is a restricted area!” Rusty barked. “You can’t be here!”
The professor played dumb. “Huh? Oh, I’m terribly sorry. I seem to have wandered in here by mistake. I’ll get out of your way.”
Rusty sniffed the air, then pointed at the joint. “Is that weed?”
“I don’t know,” the professor said as he pointed at Rusty’s frappuccino. “Is that a frozen novelty beverage that you walked away from your post for, thus allowing a complete and total stranger to tromp all over what is supposed to be a secure crime scene related to a series of high profile murders?”
“Shit,” Rusty said.
“Indeed,” the professor replied.
“I won’t tell if you won’t?” Rusty asked.
“Mum’s the word,” the professor said as he walked toward the door.
“Just tell me what you’re doing here,” Rusty said. “You some kind of pervert with a thing for sniffing college girls’ toilet seats or something?”
“Not at all,” the professor said. “Let’s just say I’m a concerned citizen.”
“And what’s your concern?” Rusty asked.
The professor opened his mouth, then stopped himself. “No. No, I’m sorry but I must locate your superior. You’re just not important enough and I don’t want to tell my story twice.”
And with that, the professor exited the bathroom. Rusty stared at his reflection in the mirror over the sink and sipped on his frappuccino.
“Stupid prick,” Rusty said. “I could be important. How does he know?”