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The Mystery of The Mysterious Mystery
The Mystery of The Mysterious Mystery
I was just lighting up my 81st cigarette of the morning and drinking bourbon laced with coffee when I heard the sound of high heels clicking on the stairs. Not many dames make it up here to my office. Mostly guys, losers for the most part, no where else to go, looking for help from a like minded guy, it's the way they all view me. With out those paper 3-D glasses that I give out at parties and to family, friends, and clients, (the ones that paid me), as cheap Christmas gifts,it's a wonder any of 'em can see a thing.
First the sound of those heels on metal treads, then the whiff of cheap perfume as it crashed into my sensory perceptors located in my nose and causing me to sneeze, a sure indicator that something stunk in Denmark and it'd found it's way to my office door.
Two loud knocks and before I could get one foot out of the window to jump to my death,( at worst), or possibley inch along the 4 " wide ledge to escape her presence she yanked on my chain.
" Mr. Shit I believe? " she asked as her long-legged stride brought her with-in a cunt-hair of being 3 or 4 feet away from me.
" That's Sheeit " I blinked at the irritating misuse of my proud family name. " The first sy
lable is pronounced as 'chi' sound and the second is 'et'. Sheeit, see?"
" I didn't come here for a english lessen mister, I came to hire you to teach my ugly sister and deaf and dumb mother to read Shakespere, and the St. Louis Post Dispatch too if you could. Oh yeah, they're both blind, drunk, and Members In Good Standing with D.A.M.M., you know? Drunks Against Mad Mothers?"
This brought to my mind a difficult dilemma 'cause it was hard enough to teach normal people correct english but to take on a ugly gal and try? No way, it'd be too much of a distraction at best and she could end up the mother of one of my 53 children by the first 77 ugly women I stuck the ole wick in, as a worse case senario.
" How 'bout you raise that skirt and let me see if that's a gun hanging between your legs or is it a real banana you're packing around?"
Before she could answer the phone rang, breaking the magic moment that may never see the light of day. Just like her dirty knees and elbows I suspect. On the 3rd ring I picked it up and using my expert lingistic skills I passed as a man tryin to sound like a woman, and after a number of false positives I gathered the gist of the callers survey and chose Tampons over Brand X as a favorite insertion device to be used only in the case of an emergency.
Hanging up the blender where the phone use to sit, I heard her say, as she click, clacked her way towards the door. 'If you only had until wednesday, wens-they-let-you, could you find Usama Bin Laden, sue for world Peace in Calvert Arkansas, put two inches of length and girth on your penis, get the skid marks out of my panties, and find me a cab?'
"Probably", I replied. " What kind of laundry soap did you say Bin Laden used?'
" Gain " she said and with a twirl of scented stench and show of sleek thighs, thru the in door she went.
Some times, it don't pay to solve all the mysteries in the world, especially prior to my second cup of bourbon with a splash of coffee in it. Murder, , mayhem, arson, food stamp fraud, it just keeps gettin' worse until you're down so far that you need a ladder to see over the curb of a sidewalk. I always knew that once I got the hang of playin with my cock during a conference, sales meeting, funeral, or Presidential Debate, I'd be a successful investigator. Hopefully I'll have it down soon, I'm getting sore and the head is as red as a beet. Wow, the color goes well with my eyes.
Here's lookin' at ya Mertle!!!
12/5/2005 12:02 am
Yes Fly, you're right....abot there being a clue, but not the phone call and not the perfume, the clue is in the ...................|