Q: How can you use corpse in a sentence?

A: I just did:

Your partner is a corpse.

That's what I said a minute ago. Then you smiled and nodded and I thought you understood and you'd stop crying and stop kissing her and I wouldn't have to back away slowly and run.

But then you got this blank look on your face, this far away look like you could see right through me, through everything, that look made me want to back away slowly and run and run until my legs gave out, but I didn't because I knew you'd catch me, and you asked what corpse means and I smiled because I thought you were joking and I pointed to your partner, dead on the ground.

But you didn't smile or laugh or seem to understand what I was saying, and then you asked again what corpse means and I said "a dead body" and you asked me to use in a sentence and I said "Your partner is a corpse" and now you asked again and I'm kind of at a loss for words.

Your partner is dead. She is a corpse. She is that corpse. That's why she's not happy to see you. That's why she can't hug you back. Stop trying to force her arms. Rigor mortis makes them too stiff.

I'm guessing you haven't been a detective that long. And I'm guessing you and your partner had a relationship that was more than professional. That probably makes her death hard to accept. If it were up to me, you could stay there holding her and crying all day. But it's not up to me. We have a crime scene to process. I need you to step away from the corpse so I can take her down to the morgue for an autopsy.

You probably don't want me to explain what autopsy means.

Q: What are the 5 things the determine personal health?

A: A healthy lifestyle depends on:

1.) Eating a balanced diet, low in sodium, sugar and fat.
2.) Exercising daily.
3.) Refraining from smoking, drug use or drinking alcohol.
4.) Getting plenty of sleep, at least 8 hours a day,
5.) Not having an alien gestating in your rib cage.

You were so close.

Q: What type of things were drawn on cave walls?

A: That's an excellent question, Tommy, and that's exactly why we took this field trip, to see some cave drawings with our own eyes and experience what it would have been like to live thousands of years ago, before TV, before movies, before man could even read or write. I can't wait to see what we find. Let's take a look.

Here we have a drawing of a family around the fire, looking up with awe at a man in elaborate dress, perhaps a soothsayer or wise man. And here we see a warrior saving his bride from a mammoth, slaying the beast with   a spear.

It's like stepping into a time machine and traveling back to visit our ancestors. We can see how they ate, how they lived, how they danced and, if you look over here, how they ... oh dear ... how they made love.

Let's move on. Here we have a still life, of some sort of gourd, or maybe a banana, next to a pair of oranges -  okay let's keep moving. Come on everyone! Eyes down! Eyes down!

Stop taking pictures, Tommy!

Hurry along, hurry along.

Okay, this is more like it. A herd of animals. Look at the details, the arc of the horns, the grace of their movement. These drawings are the work of a true artist. We can see the animals, running through the plains, leaping over a stream, running right into the spear of a waiting warrior. I think that's his spear. I hope that's his spear.

Oh, dear.

Move along, class, move along. Kelly, don't look at that!

Run, children, run! Over here, over here!

Oh, here's a nice one. This is magnificent. Look at the scope. Thousands of tribes coming together, walking through the canyon to worship a space ship. A space ship. What the fuck?

I quit. Field trip's over. Bus leaves in five minutes.

Tommy, please stop taking pictures.

Q: Why does Chaucer portray himself as a knight in the Canterbury Tales?

A: For centuries, writers have written themselves into their own work. Take a look at The Bible, written by God. God puts himself at the center of everything: he's either in every scene, or the subject of every scene. In the sequel, his ego fulfilled, God took a step back and focused more on his son, much to the delight of millions of  fans.

Writing is hard, lonely work, often unrewarding. Writers love to remind readers that the words on the page did not magically appear, nor were they written by an elf or fairy, nor are they result of an infinite number of monkeys banging away at an infinite number of keyboards for infinity; human beings write books, humans with hearts, with souls, humans looking for attention, humans looking to get laid. What better way to woo a potential lover than by writing a story where you appear as a knight, or a wizard, or a crime-fighting cyborg from the future?

The tradition of writers putting themselves in their own work continues to this day, as seen in the works of M. Night Shymalan, portraying a writer whose work will change the world in Lady in the Water, Quentin Tarantino, portraying a former hitman with a loving wife in Pulp Fiction, and George Lucas, portraying the role of inter-galactic crime boss, Jabba the Hut in Star Wars.

By the way, did you happen to read that story I gave you about the crime-fighting cyborg from the future named Ryan? Pretty sexy stuff, huh?

So, how about we grab dinner and maybe I'll let you find out if I'm really half-man, half-machine?

Q: How do you beat twitch in star wars knights of the old republic?

A: Years ago, before you were born, I left my home in Schenectady and boarded a train bound for Milwaukee.  I sat down next to a man who bothered me. I don't know what it was about him, maybe his mismatched socks, one navy, one maroon, his crumb-covered vest, the odor of old feet wafting from his belt, or his uneven beard, but it was something, something I didn't like.  I would have switched seats had I could but I could not, so I sat with my head down, hoping he would depart soon.

He rode all the way to Milwaukee. Along the way, the woman behind me began to convulse. She kicked the back of my seat, slapped me in the head, fell to the ground foaming at the mouth. The whole time, the man in the seat next to me clapped his hands and giggled. "Is that Joan Rivers?" he shouted, over and over again, clapping louder. "Is that Joan Rivers? Is that Joan Rivers? Is that Joan Rivers?" It was not Joan Rivers. It was an elderly epileptic struggling to live. I never thought I'd see a worse case of timing than that man asking that question while that woman writhed in the aisle. Until right now. Until you lept from your seat, shouted your question about Star Wars and ruined your grandmother's funeral.

Congratulations, son, you've asked the most ill-timed, poorly thought out question I have ever heard. You deserve a trophy. I'll leave for Milwaukee tomorrow to pick it up. Hopefully that guy still has it.