'The Class Murder: Museum Murder' by Nick Ball

Prelude to ... a Murder:

TwoDifferentSox recently wrote "Murder Mystery", which was a cracking good read, but kinda copped out in the "But it was all a dream" aspect to it.. I mean, we all read The Class Menagerie (www.theclassm.com in case you didn't know .. and if you didn't know .. then what are you doing here, anyway?), and I think I speak for the masses of 'Class M' fans when I say "We want one of the characters to murder another of the characters in cold blood, please".

That being said, here we go. The Class Menagerie itself and all its characters are the property of Vince Suzukawa, and this is an officially endorsed and authoritative continuance of The Class M storyline so both the victim and the murder won't be appearing in any more strips. Sorry.

Oh yeah, and while you're believing lies, I'm a competent author who can be mailed to be let know how great I am. And my creative strip of ‘Needle and Thread’ is always providing quality entertainment, 24/7.

But we have a murder to get to.

n/k, 2001.

Museum Murder: Part I

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-==-=-

Biff had a busy morning, though not in studies, of course.

His sports scholarship saw to that. The finer part of Biff's brain appreciated the irony of his ability to knock other people down and brutalize them ensured he'd get a degree. Of course, the finer part of his brain couldn't actually recall what his degree was meant to be in, but that was another a matter. Maybe his brain wasn't so brilliant after all. Would it be irony that he always wore a helmet when he practiced grid-iron and yet he didn't need his brain? Could it even be more ironical that his brain was wondering as to how important his brain was?

Cindy just stared at him.

Biff had spent so long wondering how less than spectacular his brain was, his brain had forgotten why he was standing in Cindy's room.

"Huh, ironic", he remarked quietly.

Cindy's cold stare turned to puzzlement. "What's ironic?" she asked.

"I've forgotten why I came in here." he said, casually examining the decor in the hope something would stir his memory.

"Irony", began Cindy in the haughtiest tone she could muster in the hope of embarrassing Biff into leaving her room, "is a figure of speech or literal device in which the literal meaning is opposite of that which is intended. It is *particularly* manifested when the locution understates the effect intended."

"Nope" Biff remarked blankly, "*that* couldn't have been why I came in here". He continued to take in his surroundings. Desk, books, uh, something.. wallet.. wallet. Wallet. That's it. Wallet.

"I came here for some money" Biff said, with relief at remembering whatever it was.

Even though he couldn't quite remember.

"Biff, ATM machines are typically rectangular, located in walls and requiring card details and PIN numbers" Cindy began, tartly.

"I'm going to one right now" Lisa said, tossing her magazine aside and hopping off the bunk. Evidently there was a little storm brewing, and she didn't want to be there when whatever it was that was going to happen, happened. The fact Cindy had unthinkingly used the ~~tautologies~~needless repetitions of "ATM Machine" and "PIN Numbers" showed her disturbed train of thought, and Biff, well, Biff was always disturbed. Neither of them seemed to notice her leave, pulling the door shut as she left.

" .. and furthermore, while I, unlike an ATM, don't have any buttons, you're pushing my buttons right now Biff, OK?" Cindy finished.

Biff stared blankly at her while he tried to recall just why Cindy wasn't giving him money. He was hoping this would make him appear menacing. Unfortunately it made him seem slightly stupider than he actually was.

"Can you shift yourself now, Neanderthal? Please?" Cindy said, in a gentle yet forceful tone.

Biff, however, suddenly remembered something. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a photograph, recently developed. "I.. have this photo."

he said. He looked at it for some time. "It's of you". He then showed it to her.

Cindy was, not to put too fine a point on it, somewhat taken aback.

"Wh..where did you get that?" she stammered.

"Uh. Last Friday" Biff said, failing to distinguish between where and when.

Cindy sighed and made the rest of the financial transaction a lot easier. Yes, she'd give Biff money, if he gave her the photograph and didn't tell anyone else about it. Oh. Well in that case, she'd give him some cash now, and some more later. Yes. No. A pleasure doing business, Biff. Goodbye.

----

That being just one incident of Biff's busy morning. There was also that compromising photo of Scott (caught triple integrating), the one of Mikey (eating a chocolate bar) and the one of Brad (reading Little Women).

Of course, they had their various excuses..

Scott: I had to write down this hot gal's number down in derivative form! It's nothing, really!

Mikey: The wrapper said carob! It'd be rude to throw it away just because someone got the label wrong and it was actually chocolate, with fudge!

Brad: I was pretending to read it while leafing through pornography!

..but Biff's (now patent) reptilian stare, so reptilian it caused even Scott to shiver, caused them to hand over their money soon enough. Busy morning.

----

Fleecing Kevin was a greater pleasure still.

"Hey, Kevin" Biff began, "do you think it's ironic that I play football?".

"Oh SURE" Kevin began, "an intellectual of wiry form as yourself, and yet playing some violent thug-like game of drones. TONS of irony" he replied, opening the throttle on the sarcasm. The good thing about people like Biff, if there was a good thing about people like Biff, was that they couldn't detect sarcasm.

"I thought so too. I want some money." he said, getting the hang of blackmail.

"What do you want money for?" Kevin asked, a little suspiciously.

"I'm.. going to go buy stuff" Biff remarked, somewhat completely.

Kevin decided not to pursue this issue of money being used to purchase things. Instead, he curiously asked as to why Kevin of all people would be called upon to lend Biff some money.

"Give" interrupted Biff. "I want you to give me the money".

A few of the hairs towards Kevin's lower back started to prickle, sensing danger may possibly lay ahead.

"And.. why would I give you some money, then, Biff?" Kevin asked, carefully regulating his playful nature.

"Because you wrote those paper for me and got me the A+" Biff remarked, matter-as-factly.

Kevin leapt past Biff, anxiously looked around the corridor and closed the door.

"Not so LOUD, Brainiac!" he hissed.

"Yeah, that's what I mean. I been thinking, and while it was nice of you to write that paper for me in exchange for that box I got for Christmas-" Biff began.

"A P7 integrated SCAT-RAM" Kevin said, gesturing to the computer sitting on his desk.

"Yeah, the box I got for Christmas. Well, you doing that was wrong".

Kevin had prepared the various moral arguments he'd used to lie to himself when he agreed to do the term paper in the first place.

"No, no" he began "your scholarship would have given you a suitable mark on the paper anyway, and you don't have to do your own work, and we had a fair trade arranged, so there's no problem with me doing a little of your work that you were going to have done for you anyway and me getting a modest uh, payment".

Biff, fortunately or unfortunately, did not have the mental process to consider this line of thought, and re-iterated his request for money.

"After all" he said, "if there's nothing wrong with you doing it, why're you closing the door and trying to keep me quiet?"

Kevin couldn't refute that, and when you can't outsmart or win an argument against Biff, you've already lost in more ways than are countable. He handed over the money.

Biff had a busy morning indeed.

~End of Part One~

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