Surfing the Net
There was what looked like a small surfboard wedged into the bars of the kids' merry-go-round. A man's body lay beside it, face down.
Where had he come from? Nobody knows. Where was he going? Nobody knows.
Only an investigator, slowly circling like a crocodile, considering the scene from all angles.
The man spluttered in a breath, and rolled over with a groan, revealing a pale but otherwise ordinary face.
The investigator froze. The man was supposed to be dead!
The man saw the surfboard, swore softly, and turned to scowl at the investigator. "Family prank," he snapped. "I'm not dead, I just look it when I'm asleep, and they think it's funny to set up fake mystery scenes."
The investigator considered that. It sounded true enough, and without evidence, there was no way to prove it wasn't. "And the surfboard?"
The man gave a small, bitter, sharp-toothed smile. "I'm in I.T. It's a pun on surfing the 'net."
"We would like a statement from you all the same. For our records, of course."
"Of course," the man echoed flatly, and heaved himself to his feet. "Come on then, let's get it over with."
