This morning I got a call from Pippie. As I'd mentioned before, she's working cases for me on occasion as well as being a coworker at the MEO. She's currently on a surveillance north of here and was checking in.
"So, Polly, I found your blog this morning."
Silence. Oh, fudge.
"That picture of you is hot."
More silence. "I...how did you find my blog?"
"Well, hell, girl. I'm a detective!"
Damn. That's true, you are. "Um...you understand... Please don't tell anybody at the office!"
"Aw, don't worry about it. Your secret's safe with me...for now. But you better go in quick and change all the mean things you said about me or I might change my mind."
"I never said anything mean about you! I just talked about when you stuck the giant Hershey's Kiss in your sweater and pretended it was an accessory nipple."
"Huh. You realize that you're mine, now. I own you. Which reminds me...there's this really nice watch I found at the Outlet Mall the other day. It would be a great gift for Pippie Day."
"You're birthday is coming up?"
"No. Pippie Day."
So, bloglit. I am now Pippie's slave...cabana boy...French maid...
I'm sure she won't take advantage.