Brigid, her morning bagel in hand, did that furrowed brow thing. "Huh?"
"Yeah, it's crazy. The radio star just went on a six-week holiday to Europe without telling anybody! Says it was just a spur of the moment thing." I pointed at a paragraph in the paper. "It says here that video was released without comment -- not even so much as an apology!"
"Video was released?" Brigid said. "Video of what?"
"'Sorry we messed up your life, video,'" I said, in a deep voice. "'But that's the way it goes, old thing. Toodle-pip!'" I shook my head. "It's an outrage! If I were video, I'd have a squadron of lawyers ready to swoop down with subpeonas. I'd sue the police, the district attorney, hell even the radio star if I could prove that it was done deliberately. The radio star has always had it in for video, that's my theory."
"What in the world are you babbling about?" she asked, coming around to look at the paper. There she found, of course, the Style section I had actually been reading. She blinked at it for several seconds, then closed her eyes in long-suffering aggravation as she realized what was going on.
It took a lot of effort to get the cream cheese out of my eyebrows. But it was worth it.
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