Monday, October 13, 2014

My Murder, She Wrote Conspiracy Theory [Developing]

Without realizing it, I started powering through Netflix’s entire series run of Murder, She Wrote in conjunction with the series’ thirtieth anniversary. I watch an episode or two whenever I have work that doesn’t require too much attention, and as I move ahead through the series, I’ve begun to develop a theory that, much like the theories of evolution or gravity, is impossible for any rational mind to dispute. And no, this is nothing as simple as the trite “What if Jessica Fletcher is actually the killer?” theory. No, this is much deeper than that.

Jessica Fletcher has a seemingly inexhaustible supply of nieces and nephews, all spread across the country and working in every industry imaginable.

Each of these young relatives are, per Jessica Fletcher, incapable of murder but nonetheless associated with murders.

It’s possible that each of these supposed nieces and nephews are actually just Jessica Fletcher’s murder operatives that she's manipulating under the guise of being their kindly, childless aunt.

She used to be an English teacher — so better to brainwash young people into becoming murder drones, obviously.

Jessica Fletcher’s brothers and sisters are seen rarely. I assume she has killed them all in order to raise their children as her murder drones.

People probably suspect Jessica Fletcher of being a murderous mastermind, but they still invite her places because they’re scared of angering her.

In fact, she's probably holding the whole town of Cabot Cove hostage. In the episodes where she’s investigating murders in other cities, the innocent Cabot Covers are probably scrambling to escape, lest Lady Death return and lower the population further.

The notion of Jessica Fletcher controlling Cabot Cove with a bloody fist is the only explanation for Sheriff Amos Tupper (Tom Bosley and Tom Bosley’s interesting accent), who is often Chief Wiggum-level stupid and unable to investigate crimes without Jessica’s repeated prompting. Clearly, she’s guiding him down a path that leads away from her own guilt.

Obviously, Jessica Fletcher murdered the previous sheriff and replaced him with her Tupper, her puppet.

Despite the fact that people seem widely familiar with her work — “J.B. Flecter? I just loved The Corpse Danced at Midnight!” — Jessica Fletcher lives in a relatively modest home and not a super-mansion you’d expect from a blockbuster author. I can only assume that the word has gotten out that she may spare you if you praise her work. Thus, people put on a show of having read her books when they actually haven’t bought a copy.

Every time an episode ends with Jessica Fletcher finally winning over the stubborn lawman she’s working with in whatever non-Cabot Cove city, the scene ends with her making a goofy face to spare the viewing audience from what inevitably follows: raunchy Fletcher fucking.

When these lawman don’t re-appear? Jessica Fletcher killed them, obviously. With sex.

J.B. Fletcher = J.B. Felcher? (Still researching this one.)

No comments:

Post a Comment