More Adventures of Sunblock Hose (3)
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The world's first and utmost serial
consorting detective and the original
big dummy by A. Conman Doll
(whose lips never seem to move
while Doctor Wacko is narrating).
"Did you see that, Whacko?" Sunblock Hose asked after Nary Marestongue's axe neatly split the wingback chair I had most recently been sitting in. "This axe has a enmelded diamond edge. The finest cutting blade on Earth."
I could scarcely hide my astonishment at having narrowly escaped dismemberment.
"MY GOD, HOSE!"
"Exactly, my dear Whacko," Hose continued. "The enmelded diamond axe is perhaps the most rare and valuable wood-chopping device known to man. You must propose to this young woman immediately -- she is not only attractive, as I have deduced from your physical reaction to her, but rich as well."
I quickly pulled the tantalus in front of me. "Drinks, anyone?"
"Your respiration, my dear fellow," Holmes explained. "You are fairly panting in her presence, just as Miss Marestongue can scarcely conceal her fully engorged . . ."
"I'll have a drink, thank you!" Nary Maretongue exclaimed grabbing the gasogene and pulling it in front of her. "We must hurry, Mr. Hose, if we are to make it to the Lice 'See 'Em!' Theatre in time for our rendezvous."
Sunblock Hose and I escorted Miss Marestongue to a four-wheeler, and the three of us were soon rattling off to the Lice 'See 'Em!' that place most memorable for Hose's solving of the matter of the pediatrician, the lice-house, and the trained cow warrant. My head still itched at the memory.
"Head and Shoulders is the stuff, Whacko," Hose commented, his keen eye upon me. His dull eye was rolling around like a cricket ball in a rain barrel.
Suddenly our cab came to a halt, and looking out the door I could see a group of ragged little street cherubs blocking the street.
"We want our shillings, Mr. Sunblock Hose!" they cried, slapping their little hands with cricket bats held in their other hands.
"You'll get them at the banquet I'm holding on my birthday!" Hose shouted back at them. "I'll award two shillings to the lad who can find a steam launch with two red stripes and a purple daisy painted on it!"
"Two shillings!" the boys cried as one, and scattered, searching for the boat Hose described.
"Gets them every time," Hose laughed, sitting back in the cab as we continued our journey. "They're my unpaid police force, my Laker Street Investulars. They can go anywhere, see anything, and overhear everything.
Just like your average child with Internet access." Miss Marestongue and I gave him a puzzled look, but before he could explain, the cab pulled to a halt in front of our destination. I climbed out first, to help our client exit the cab, just as the cabbie called down to me:
"Here's your axe, sir!"
Once more I saw the sharp blade of fate bearing down upon me.
IS THAT DAMNED AXE EVER GOING TO HIT WHACKO?
WHEN DOES THE MIDGET SHOW UP IN THIS STORY?
BE HERE NEXT WEEK FOR THE THRILLING ANSWERS! SAME WHACK-TIME! SAME WHACK-WEB-SITE!
(Originally presented on the Baker Street list on July 9, 1998.)