Good Thing They Know His Nickname!

While each and every murder is a tragedy in DC, apparently each and every murder investigation is also a bad comedy. From the Washington Post:

D.C. police said yesterday they know the nickname of the man who allegedly killed a 17-year-old girl at a Northwest Washington nightclub over the weekend but have not been able to find him.

Oh. I’m so glad that you know his nickname is “Flunky McShootsemdead” now could you stop with the hijinx and find and arrest the guy? Don’t just tell us you know what his friends call him, give us a name, a picture, and get the people involved! Otherwise, you’ll be realizing the dreams of the infamous Frank J and his struggle with the Donald Rumsfeld Strangler, which is published in part below the cut.

Courtesy of Frank J’s IMAO:

Detective Ian Competent shined a bright light into Donald Rumsfeld’s eyes. “So how many people have you strangled to death?”

Rumsfeld rubbed his knuckles. “Apparently not enough.”

Detective Competent slammed his hands down on the table. “You think this is funny?!”

“I don’t ever think anything is funny,” Rumsfeld answered. “Laughing is for homosexuals.”

“Well you won’t be homosexual over this.” Detective Competent threw some photos of people strangled to death down in front of Rumsfeld. “Do you recognize these?”

Rumsfeld adjusted his glasses and looked at the photos. “Yes. These are the photos I sent you of the people I strangled. I wanted to make sure you knew who strangled them because I don’t want someone else taking credit from my stranglings. That would just mean more people to strangle.”

“Don’t try and talk your way out of this one!” Detective Competent shouted. “We have evidence you strangled these people! Diplomats, hippies, French people – all dead because of you!”

Rumsfeld yawned. “Now you’re just quoting my resume. I thought we were clear on all this? I usually came in and told you guys who I was going to strangle before hand to once again make sure no one take credit for my stranglings.” Rumsfeld got angry. “Is someone taking credit for my strangling?!”

Detective Competent laughed. “I bet you never thought we’d figure it out.”

“What’s to figure out? I left you guys notes and everything so you wouldn’t waste time on this.”

Detective Competent stared Rumsfeld right in the eyes. “Do you know what the punishment is for mass murderers in Washington D.C.?”

Rumsfeld thought for a moment. “I think it’s a fifteen dollar fine.”

“Wrong!” Detective Competent slammed his fists down on the table. “In an effort to crack down on murder sprees, the fine has been increased to forty dollars.” He paused for a second. “Of course, the law change isn’t retroactive, and since your murderers predate it, I guess your fine is still fifteen dollars.” He shrugged. “So, yeah, I guess you’re right; it’s fifteen dollars. Sorry for the outburst.”

“Rarr!” Rumsfeld burst to his feet. “I’m not paying that! Everyone I strangled deserved it!”

“If you don’t pay your fine, it’s prison for you! And then you can strangle rocks all day! Now, another question: You know anything about the kids disappearing in your neighborhood? We thought that would stop when we took you in, but, well…” He chuckled. “Whoops! Wrong again. Can’t get them all right… or even most of them.”

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