The Mystery of the Darkened Room

6 Nov

It is a dark, dark night. The sun is gone. The moon is out. High in the sky it shines, brilliant and bright and white as the crowd at a Sarah Palin book signing.

I hear a knocking at my door.

“Knock knock knock” my door says.

“Come in,” my mouth says.

Into my office strides a beautiful, beautiful female human. She has long, black hair that cascades from her head to her shoulders like a waterfall of black gold. Texas T. She’s wearing a tight little red dress that looks as if it were made just for her. She had the kind of beauty that a man can’t be sure even exists until you see it.

“Hello,” she say in a husky, breathy voice.

“Hello,” I say in a Cookie Monster voice.

She walks around my office like she owns it.

“Please, take a seat,” I say, getting to my feet and gesturing toward one of the seats facing my desk. She sits. I wink at my chair as her beautiful, cheese-wheel behind rests itself firmly on the chair’s cushion. [Editor’s Note: I’m sorry, I’m a bit lost on the “cheese-wheel” reference. Have you heard that somewhere before? Did you hear that on a television show?]

“Thank you,” she says. Her voice is smooth and her voice seems to be poured from her mouth.

“What’s the problem?” I ask.

“Well,” she begins. “I seem to be missing something.” She pauses, baiting me to inquire as to what it is she’s missing. I find this conversational practice incredibly frustrating, but since she’s hot I forgive it, as I do any other flaw a hot woman has.

“What is it you’re missing?” I ask.

“It’s a very valuable diamond necklace. My mother gave it to me. She got it from her mother and my grandmother got it from her mother and so on and so forth.”

I pause for a moment, trying to figure out what the phrase “and so forth” means. “Ma’am, I believe you’ve come to the right place.” I lean forward and take a pen and pad out of my desk. I draw a big question mark on it surrounded by alien heads. She thinks I’m taking notes and thinking about the case. In reality, I’m just thinking about Roswell and ships.

“I think it’s been taken by a rival family, the Vanhorns.”

“Vanhorns, eh?” I murmur, eyes still locked on the pad. I turn the page and start practicing a new signature.

“Yes. They’ve been after my family and I for years over some conflict that I can’t even remember.”

“It seems they can remember,” I say. “Good one,” I write on the pad.

“Well, do you think you can help me?” she asks.

“Yes, I do.”

“What do you think you’ll do first?” she asks.

I turn the page and start doing some pre-writing for a blog about Good Will Hunting.

“I think I’ll look into the motivations of the suspects,” I say, absently. I circle the words “Matt Damon” and continue with my pre-writing, jotting down a few notes about Ben Affleck and the movie Daredevil.

“Thank you,” she says. She then shifts in her seat and asks, clearly trying to maintain an air of confidence, “How do we handle the financial aspect?”

“You pay me.”

We stare at each other for an uninterrupted period of six or seven seconds.

“You pay me with money out of your wallet.” As I say this, I begin to lean over the desk, gesturing toward her purse.

“Yes, I know that,” she says, hurriedly snatching her purse into her lap. “How much does it cost?”

“Like a hundred bucks,” I say, once again absorbed in inventing a new, Good Will Hunting-themed super hero moniker for Ben Affleck (Ben Aff-pecs. Ben Affleck with HUGE pecs.) I get up, grab my magnifying glass and leave the room–ready to solve the case.

My first stop was at the home of Thomas VanHorn–patriarch of the VanHorn clan.

My car is parked in front of the mansion. I’m looking at the vast beauty of the mansion. The mansion looks really neat from the outside–like a castle with indoor plumbing. I like the mansion’s looks.

“Lookin’ good, mansion,” I say.

I fall asleep in my car roughly fifteen minutes after arriving at the home. Stake outs are boring as hell.

[Scene missing]

And so I solved the case. VanHorn returned the time machine to the authorities and I found where that guy had hidden all my organs.

The End.

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