CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Word Count: 433
What do you want for your birthday?
People have their birthday once a year, although some might take the liberty of stretching out the “celebrations” into an insufferable amount of time, I am not one to do as such. I do nothing different on my birthday with the exception of one thing. I go and visit my aunt, she forces a piece of cake and a present on me and I have to obligingly play along in her little game. Whether she has realised I don’t really care or not is significantly up to her and her mood on the “special day” but often enough she play’s happy family and we soon enough get on with life. I can already tell you what I will be getting on my god forsaken birthday, my forty second piece of knitted clothing apparel. I have gotten the same type of thing for the past 41 years, round about, except its changed sizes, design and colour as time has gone past. I get a jumper, or a vest, depending on what horrible creation Agatha knits up, packages in gift wrap and then hands on to me as some sort of gift in honour of the day I was born. Why she chooses such a thing in July is anybody’s guess.
Reasonably I wear these clothing items chiefly for two reasons. One, to keep her happy and off my back about not wasting the things that people give me and secondly because I am not a person to waste a perfectly wearable piece of clothing. Las Vegas does get cold and on occasion we do even get snow when it gets that cold or more. Even when there is not a terrible need for a jumper, or a vest more preferably, the air conditioning at the lab on some occasions is enough to keep anybody or for that matter any cadaver cold. As far as I can see, there is only one place that should be kept like the inside of a refrigerator, the morgue, as to preserve the quality of the victim’s bodies. Otherwise, it makes no sense that we keep having to change the internal temperature of the building like the loops on a slinky toy.
As far as I’m concerned, this matter is ended. I turn fifty in 2005 and for most of; if not all of my life I have seen no point in all this birthday business. A baby is born; they turn a year older on that day, eventually they grow up and die, end of story. There’s no use in celebrating the insufferably shitty celebration that it is.