So I decide to go out for some cocktails after work last night. I’m at the Tip Top, gettin’ my drink on, when in walks this gorgeous brunette. I won’t bore you with the details, but we hit it off. And I mean really hit it off. Flash forward to 8PM: I’m booking home, trying to get my story straight about getting stuck at work, and I think I have created some real plausible deniability. I give my rebop to Mrs. Shyster who, while skeptical, seems to be buying it. Then, wouldn’t you know it, in walks Ken Freakin’ Rosenthal, who throws cold water all over my lie. And not only does he debunk the story, he explains to my wife that it never made sense in the first place because there’s no way I could have gotten lipstick on my collar working late on the Peterson case.
Damn you Rosenthal!