Word of the Day: confabulate

Weekends are over far too quickly, and we find ourselves back at Monday. I was going to say something really wise and thoughtful about the passage of time, but, my brain isn’t cooperating, and it seems to think that the word “cooperating” is awfully long and far too much to think about this morning. So, instead, I’ll just jump ahead to…
Today’s Word
As in:
When channel 12 news reporter Anya Lopez arrived at the Sunshine Bakery for a story on their discovery of a skeleton in their basement, she had no idea that she would find herself in the middle of a completely different kind of story.
The bakery had hired contractors to expand the basement for improved storage and workspace, and, in the process, uncovered a skeleton.
The proprietors called the police. Then they called Lopez. Lopez arrived at the bakery just after their morning rush. She was led into the basement to see an excavated area, with its newly exposed human skeleton. The police had not yet arrived.
While the proprietor and Lopez confabulate in the basement, a masked gunman appears. The man is agitated, and demands that the proprietor hand over the restaurant’s money.  
The proprietor is stunned. “The money is upstairs. Why did you come down here?”
The gunman is confused and annoyed that his request is ignored and that he had to come downstairs.
“There is no one up there,” the man complained. “Where is everyone? This place is always packed! I thought it would be a real easy hit, you know, and really profitable.”
“It’s after our rush. Pretty much goes dead after nine. Maybe we should just talk about this.”
“Talk? I’m here to rob you!”
“I’m sure you have a very good reason for that. Here, why don’t you sit here and tell me all about it.”
The poor gunman, confused collapsed to the stairs and cradled his head. “I don’t know what to do! I’ve been unemployed for 13 months, and I’m about to be  homeless, I can’t pay my bills, I’ve stopped answering my phone because all I get are creditors calling to get money. I need this money!”
“Look, I feel for you, buddy, but, this isn’t the answer. You should really go. The police are on their way. Come back tomorrow, without the mask, and I’ll try and find you a job here.”
“Why would the police be on their way? No one’s called them. You can’t fool me. You just want me to leave. You don’t understand at all.”
Just then, the police came down the stairs.
The gunman, shocked, dropped his gun and threw his arms in the air. “I give up! I can’t win! Take me away!”
The police are marginally confused, and asked “Where’s the body? What the heck is going on?”
The gunman groaned, “Body?! I didn’t shoot anyone! This isn’t my fault! You can’t pin this on me! I’ve been framed! This is not fair! I want my lawyer!”
I had originally imagined this would’ve been more of a hostage crisis, but, then things took turns that I’d not expected, and the story got out of hand, and it sorta defeated me.
confabulate \ con – FAB – you – late \ 1. to confer 2. to talk informally, chat  Can also mean to fill in gaps in memory by fabrication.