Fixed Post From Monday

So here's a day dream I keep having--I'm murdered. Following my violent demise the city of New York call in Briscoe and Logan of NBC's "Law Order" ("But, Rachael, niether Briscoe nor Logan currently star on 'Law and Order.'" Shut up. It's my death fantasy and if I want to imagine the world stuck in the mid-nineties then so be it. Long live Chris Noth and Jerry Orbach-my he rest in peace.) Briscoe and Logan search my room and find my journals. "Rachael, don't you mean your diaries? You're so 13 years old." May I continue? Thank you. Mike Logan and Lenny Briscoe read everyword I wrote because I am an amazing writer who's life and philosophies are real page turners. After hours of laughing, weeping and even some fist pounding they close the last journal and go in search of my killers. They start their investigation with the clique of girls I was "friends" with as a youth. The cops develop a theory that these girls' need to destroy carried over into adulthood. They were not satisified with simplycreating an untrusting, guarded, hate spewing with their emotional manipulations. They had to actually finish me off and kill me. Turns out they all have alibis. Next my heros focus their attention on all the boys I've ever written about. Each one takes a trip downtown for questioning. The new theory is that one of these men has become obsessed with me and therefore had to kill me. They needed to end the suffering they had caused me. But when each one them interrogated they all turn into a quivering, weeping girly-men. They all ball their eyes out when they learn I've been killed and they've lost their chance to win me back, forever. At this point I stop daydreaming never discovering who's robbed the planet of me and my sunny disposition.