Intern Dexter: Masuka

I laughed. “Honey, everybody’s rhythms are off around here. Have you seen Sgt. Doakes’ face?”

Her name is . I’m not kidding. Her parents have a sick sense of humor. I call her "M.I.D." for short. Or "Mini-Masuka."

Despite the creepy vibes, the girl is a . She organized my reagent shelf alphabetically and by molecular weight. She found a trace of soil on a victim’s shoe that Batista missed. She even laughed at my “What do you call a fake noodle? An impasta!” joke. masuka intern dexter

But this summer? The universe played a joke on me. A glorious, statistically improbable joke.

Here’s the weird part. Every time my boy Dexter (the blood spatter analyst, not the intern—stay with me) walks into the room, Intern Masuka gets very stiff. She stares at his shoes. She stares at his gloves. I laughed

So I Got an Intern. Her Name is Masuka Too. (This is either fate or a clerical error.)

— Vince Masuka P.S. If you’re reading this, Dexter (the real one), stop looking at my ketamine. P.P.S. Intern Masuka, if you’re reading this, please don’t stab me. You’re the only one who knows how to calibrate the GC/MS. Check out my vlog: “Spatter Matters with Masuka.” Doakes’ face

If I end up on a slab next week with a neat little needle mark in my neck, tell the world I died doing what I loved: wearing a Hawaiian shirt and talking about the refractive index of semen.