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Q: Mr. Simpson, you first met Nicole when she was 18 years old; is that true?
A: Blow me.
Q: And then You killed her, right?
A: No. She was killed by drug dealers who'd come to give Faye Resnick a Bolivian Necktie.
Q: You had gloves; you had a hat; you were wearing a dark sweat outfit, and you had a knife. And you went to Nicole Brown's condominium at 875 South Bundy, did you not, sir?
A: Yes. Nicole gave me these fucking gloves that didn't fit, and these ugly Italian shoes and this dorky ski cap and this sweat outfit that's the wrong fucking color. So I put 'em all on at the same time, and went over to her place to give 'em all back. But because the gloves were so tight or something, I started getting really really pissed.
When I got to Nicole's, Faye Resnick was already there, eating some half-melted Ben and Jerry's ice cream, mainlining LSD, and fucking Geraldo Rivera on the pool table.
Well, right off, Geraldo starts accusing me of killing the Kennedys and being Deep Throat, and then Kato shows up and starts playing this head game on me, you know, telling stories about all the great blowjobs Nicole's been giving total strangers in front of open windows facing the street with the lights on.
Q: And You confronted Nicole Brown Simpson and you killed her, didn't you?
A: No. -- You see, not many people knew this about Nicole, but she was a pretty heavy UNIX and TCP/IP hacker, and back in '94 she was working on a browser that would've kicked Mosaic's butt, and a search engine that would've kicked Alta Vista's. I mean, it was pretty obvious that her suite of tightly integrated internet products and early strategic partnerings would've trumped Netscape, IE, Java and ActiveX before they even got off the ground. -- And that's why they had her killed.
Ron Goldman was hired to give Nicole a Bolivian Necktie or Peruvian Necklace or whatever, so people would think it was a drug thing. But when I showed up to give Nicole back her crappy gloves an all, Goldman had just gotten there too. I noticed that he had a burning tractor tire in one hand and a can of gasoline in the other, so I knew immediately he wanted to give someone a Bolivian Necktie.
Q: And you killed Ronald Goldman, sir, did you or did you not?
A: I wrestled the tire and the gasoline away from him and was carrying them out to the Bronco for safe keeping, when I saw Nicole come to the door with a carton of half-melted Ben and Jerry's Cherry Garcia ice cream. I kept going, but by the time I got to the street I heard a scream and rushed back. Obviously Nicole, seeing me with the burning tire, figured out the necktie thing and was so pissed off, she just stabbed Ron Goldman to death and then turned the knife on herself and committed an esoteric form of hara kiri.
You see, not many people knew this about Nicole, but she was a scholar in Japanese studies, and she knew all about those custom things like tea ceremonies and bonzai and esoteric techniques of suicide, and all.
Anyway, as she lay there dying, she told me that everything was her fault, that she never should've had the arrogance to try to develop a better browser than NCSA Mosaic, and that I had nothing to do with it in any way -- and then she made me swear that I wouldn't try to help, that I'd just leave and not get involved and always deny any involvement. So I swore and I said, "Oh yeah, here's your fucking ski cap back cause it makes me look like Spike Lee or somethin', and here's one of your crappy gloves back, they don't fucking fit anyway, but I gotta' keep the other one so I can carry the fucking burning tire."
And then I dropped the ski cap and glove beside her, but I didn't leave the ugly expensive Italian shoes because I didn't wanna' get any of the blood on my socks.
Then I got in the Bronco and went home and chipped some golf balls, read some Baudrillard, slept, watched some TV, packed, took a shower and put the burning tire and gasoline out behind Kato's room.
Q: Hmmm. Sounds good to me. No further questions.
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