Crime Scene (a special encore presentation...)

We have always been glad there were no schizophrenics in our house. Television made us this way.
“Kate, fix me some coffee,” Daddy said to her as she scurried from the computer in the front room to the kitchen.
I tried not to hold my breath as I waited for this request to bump into her. Her moods had been mutating quicker than bouncing die in a Pop-A-Matic dome.
“Oh, alright.” She picked up the blue mug from the coffee table. From where I sat, in the recliner I got from Salvation Army, I could see the brown line of dried-sweetened-up liquid that was adhered down the side of the cup.
Was this crazy people behavior? Reusing something when it was dirty instead of soaping it first? I flashed onto the cup of a news director who used to be my boss. It was white with a cartoon drawing on it. The insides were painted with coffee stains.
“I only wash it twice a year,” his lips brushed the rim of his cup. He proudly sipped from something nasty.
Not crazy behavior. The news director’s dirty container gave me a piece of normal. I threaded it next to my husband. He was just being a boy.
Katee delivered the coffee. She opened a can of decaffeinated, diet Coke for herself and plopped onto the love seat. It was 8:57 p.m. on a weeknight.
"Law and Order or CSI?" Daddy hovered his finger over the flipper.
“Both on?” I asked.
“It’s some special,” he said.
We picked Law and Order and in the dark TV room, lit only by a small lamp and the neighbor’s side porch light, we watched for an hour.
“Damn. It’s the schizophrenic again,” said Katee when the show ended.
“It’s never the bipolar,” said Daddy.
“Bipolar’s are the victims. Like the girlfriend of the gambler on CSI and the doctor on Law and Order who cut on the manic depressive’s eyes,” said Katee.
“He was schizophrenic and cut on schizophrenic’s eyes. He thought he had a cure,” I said.
“You think if I said I could cure manic depression by cutting on the human brain, I’d get away with it? ‘Cause think about it; I’d get paid thousands of dollars for every surgery, and then if I got caught, I could claim I was nuts. It’s a win-win situation,” Katee said.
“It’s a TV show, Kate,” I said.
“You go to college and we’ll talk about it,” Daddy said.