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November 1, 2006


November first is the Día de los Muertos. Tell us about the bones.

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Tanya: Underground

They researched, interviewed, hunted, and x-rayed. They tried radar and metal detectors and god knows what else. Then they argued. They convinced the commission to let them dig, if they waited until February. And then they finally pulled up the Astroturf, brought in the jackhammers, and called me.

I’m the top forensic pathologist on the eastern seaboard, and they hoped I’d deliver good news. I took the bones back to the lab, examined, tested, and measured. The results were confirmed by our DNA testing, but I already knew the answer.

It’s not Jimmy Hoffa. So who the hell is it?

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Jim: Right Out Of History

The bones from the mid-Cretaceous were fossilized to hues of mahogany and chestnut and spread out across the floor into rough skeletal assemblies.

Professor Hornby cleared his throat and said, “Now here’s the exciting part. Notice this small group of bones in the stomach of the predator?”

I saw the skull fragments and gasped.

“That’s right,” the professor grinned. “A hominid. A man from 70 million years ago!”

“Th-that’s impossible!” I stammered.

“We’re still trying to figure out the scraps of yellow and blue fur. But I assure you that I personally dug these bones from out of the bedrock.”

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David: Fracture? I Hardly Know Her!

It was a cold November night that found Dr. Leonard McCoy, Dr. Temperance Brennan, and the Grim Reaper shooting craps in a cemetery.

“Damn it!” cried Bones. “Snake eyes! I’m a doctor, not a gambler!”

Bones studied the facial structure of the animated skull. “Adult, age indeterminate. Probably male. Displays features inconsistent with any particular ethnic grouping. Possibly of mixed ancestry.”


“I don’t know what that means,” Bones replied.


The other two both reached for the dice.

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Stacy: Interrogation

You wanna know about them bones, eh? Well, they been pilin’ up back there for a hunnert years, so my granda used to say. Before hisself went into the pile.

What’s that? No, he ain’t been kilt, leastaways not how you mean. It was his time, so he went. ’S what we do. Gotta repay the debt, y’know.

No, I cain’t be telling you that. Blood debt, my family done owed it since before this land had people. Well, white people ennyways.

No, you cain’t be takin’ me! I owe! If I don’t pay it’ll come! Come for alla us…

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Ted: Penny and the Bones

"You found what?"

We were sitting in the tea room back at Penny's house, a room I hadn't been invitited into since I had known her. Her father didn't hate me so much as never noticed me, never invited me. He seemed to never see me and ignored even the most formal of pleasantries. I wasn't sure if he was an asshole by default, or just to me.

However, with him missing, Penny was Prima. So we sat, drank tea, and discussed the case.

"I found some bones, not human, in Daddy's workshop. We can ask them what they saw."

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From The Comments: kasac

Hocus Pocus Politics

“I say we pass a law, - make it legal” bellowed the mayor. “It’ll be good for tourism, - put Salem on the map.” He squared his shoulders and settled slowly into the head chair.

“I say it’ll give Salem a bad name, run people off”, spouted the clergyman. “It hasn’t been that long since the hunts, you can’t legalize the practice now.”

“Must we argue about this every meeting”, interrupted a council member, “Randy could we trouble you for an opinion on this?”

Randy leaned forward in her chair, closed her eyes and began kneading her bag of bones.

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