“This part seems handwritten,” Iris said, tapping where my name was added to the typed invitation in flowing cursive letters. “Is that coming from your extensive knowledge of crime scene investigation?” I asked. Iris chuckled. “It’s coming from the fact that it seems handwritten. Just look at it. Fonts don’t work like that. See? The letters don’t even line up perfectly at the bottom. And this little jagged part here is where they slipped.” “Still way fancier than my handwriting,” I said. “If you put a pen between a monkey’s teeth and asked it to sign its name while violently masturbating, that
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