when you're doing the laundry and get to the part where you have to spray things with stain remover and you remember this pair of pants definitely has salsa on it somewhere but you just can't seem to locate the exact spot at a glance, so you sort of drape them over your legs and enter your Mind Palace to re-enact the crime. feeling the murder weapon (chip) at your fingertips, tracing the trail of blood (salsa) spatter back to the last person you'd expect...the killer was You all along. and the stain is on your crotch























