Detective Bobek.

November 11,

Detective Bobek was eating breakfast when the phone rang. He didn't like being interrupted, especially during meals. If he was interrupted for any trivial reason, he would rush into the police station like a raging bull and scold the culprit.

As usual, he dismissed the matter, relying on the answering machine for help. After a moment, a voice called, "Detective Bobek, I know you're there. We've discovered something you'd like to know." Seething with anger, he grabbed the receiver and roared in a stentorian voice:

"What? " "

Detective, you have to come here, something terrible has happened."

"Where are you?" he asked in a defiant voice.

"Main station restrooms, please come in." The informant then hung up.

Half an hour later, the detective was at the station. We recognized him as he pushed his way through the crowd of onlookers, by the sandwich in his hand. He always had to snack on something during his deductions, but usually it was bread with ham and salad. Some were conditioned to logical thinking by tobacco, others by alcohol, and his sandwiches were homemade.

He pushed his way through the crowd with a huge grimace. Perhaps it was because he was brushing people with his bread, perhaps because we'd interrupted him from his meal. He was clearly not in a good mood, and his first action was to aim a juicy flick at the nose of Sergeant Konopka, who was the telephone informant. He finished his sandwich, then started on another. Finally, he set off towards the crime scene. He walked slowly, savoring the taste. It seemed he walked as calmly as if he were heading to the buffet for another sandwich, not the station toilet. When he reached his destination at a snail's pace, he saw a magnificent sight that would have sent anyone to their grave, or at least made them nauseous.

"I see some real shit here," he declared, and then fed another bite to his mouth.

In reality, it was shit, so foully splattering it could only have come from the ass of a madman. For 30 years, the law on "Sugar Island" has prohibited, under penalty of imprisonment, the display of feces in public. Anyone who doesn't follow the "excrete-flush" rule must expect consequences. Depending on what we didn't flush, we could face a long prison sentence or even the death penalty.

So far, nothing points to a serial slob. Detective Bobek, clearly not in his right mind, maintained his composure and ordered:

"Konopka, I want to see ballistics tests of the shit tomorrow. Grzebacz, you take samples and take them to the lab. Meches, you talk to the witnesses. See you tomorrow morning.

November 12th."

That morning was very similar to the morning of the previous day. The detective, interrupted from breakfast, had to attend another crime scene.

It was still too early to connect the two crimes.

November 14

This time, a thug attacked the restrooms at a supermarket. Detective Bobek, in the press, warns us not to be intimidated, as it's possible this is all the work of a psychopath.

"Worse still, it reeks of a serial slob," the detective concludes.

November 17th.

Could the suspicions of a serial slob be premature? The entire team of investigators has a tough nut to crack, as a kernel of corn was found in one of the stools. So far, the stools have been unadulterated. This disrupts a classic example of a serial slob's actions. Bobek isn't resting on his laurels and promises that no undigested or digested kernel will lead him astray.

November 18th.

The case of the seed has been solved. It was probably planted at the crime scene by a cleaning woman, who was the first to witness the horrific sight. While cleaning, she was eating corn from a can, and when she saw the messy mess, she got so scared that she dropped one of the seeds. Yesterday, she didn't tell us anything because she was afraid. Luckily, she told us everything today.

November 19

Today, Detective Bobek presented us with a psychological profile of the thug. He is likely a white male, aged 25-35, with a small mole above his left eye. Furthermore, he may suffer from scoliosis or flat feet. He has a rickety posture, hazel eyes, and a wide nose. The suspect is a compulsive cartoon watcher, and, worse still, he may wear moccasins.

A week later, we caught the criminal red-handed. The psychological portrait Bobek painted almost matched the captured man. Almost, because there was one small difference: the bandit was an African immigrant who had arrived in our country two months earlier. When asked "why did he commit such inhumane acts?", he replied briefly and concisely, "I was saving on water."