Fisher: There's a lip here. I'm thinking a smooth, rounded edge.
Hodgins: Okay, Sweets said he had an appointment he can't miss, so --
Fisher: Follow me on this. The mailman is delivering his package to the "lady of the house", if you catch my drift. The husband comes home, finds the nearest blunt instrument, which is a cast iron frying pan. And WHAM! The postman who rang twice never rang again.
Hodgins: Yeah, yeah, that totally works. If the husband is a peacock wrangler who fights crickets after work in a creeping red Fescue field.
Fisher: Peacock?
Hodgins: Yeah, what I thought was silk turns out to be the thread from the after feather of a peacock.
Fisher: You and your particulates always ruining the day for me.

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