City of IF

[D-Lotus]

On glancing over my notes of the 5,679,322 odd cases my friend Sheerluck Holmes has been involved in, I regard 'The case of the strangled parakeet' one of the most greusome and horrid cases to have been told.

It all started in a hot summer day of 1881. It was as a rule that Holmes was a late riser, so when I was confronted by him as soon as I opened my weary eyes, I was indeed surprised.

"Wichtson, you must get up. We have important buisness to attend to."

"Oh, geez...I forgot. Look, I promise I'll get the opium today."

"It is not that why I have summoned you, Wichston, but another far more serious matter which I believe could concern you if you are willing to listen."

"All right, all right." I said, as I fully woke up and stood on my feet, lifting myself from bed. As I rubbed my eyes I discovered I could see again to the fullest of my extent.

A woman was standing in the middle of my study, unsure of where to sit, or if to sit at all.

"Pray sit down." Said my friend Holmes.

"How the hell did she get in here? And furthermore, how the hell did you get in here without a key?" Said I in surprise.

"That is of no true consequence Wichston." Holmes replied calmly.

"But, but..."

"I deduce, my lady, that you have been eating jam for breakfast before you came here promptly at nine o clock by train, on which I deduce you took a cab here?" Holmes deduced.

The woman looked awestruck. She nodded her head slowly.

"How did you know?" I asked my friend.

"Well, I guessed she had been eating jam because it's all over her blouse, and the rest was pure chance. I mean, I always say the same thing when a client comes, so I'm bound to get it right at least once, right?"

I studied my friend's features in amazement. Holmes always struck me as a genius, but perhaps it was his ability to notice tiny things that I admired in him the most.

"My lady, if you could explain to us your presence here and as to what you mean to tell me?"My friend Sheerluck Holmes continued.

The woman was a corse, short, ugly, and seemed a country bumbkin in all matters, although she had tried to dress herself for this occasion, wearing a beautiful black frock...not enough garments to disguise her true self. Her face was ruddy and her hair thick and badly combed. Although she was very much repelent to me, Holmes treated her very much like a noble lady.

"Wuell, I gess ei could."

"Hmmmmmpphhhhhhh...Haahahaaahahaaa..."

I burst out laughing as soon as I heard this ridiculous accent which did not match any country-side accent in England. I started jabbing Holmes in the shoulder with my elbow, urging him to laugh along with me as I bent over and started rolling around the floor out of laughter. Clearly this author knows nothing of accents. Holmes gave me a serious stare and I sat back down in one of my own armchairs amids bursts of laughter.

"Ignore him my lady, I beg you to continue your narrative."

The woman looked abashed, but she gathered her courage and began to speak again. This time when she spoke, I managed to control myself.

"Yeu see, een my vellage, wee huave this bskhs ahs d shdkjh s dhk."

"What was that?" Said Holmes.

"Ee sauid that een my vellage, wee huave this bskhs ahs d shdkjh s dhk" She repeated.

"Ah, yes, quite." Said Holmes, clearly not understanding anything she said.

"Sir," I whispered to him "I think what she means is that in her village they have a very old and odd custom of buying a parakeet for good luck and leaving it in a cage in their house."

"Well, where are they supposed to leave it if not?"

"Well, I don't..."

"Evidently, my dear Wichston. Now keep that in mind. Now, if our fair lady would continue her narrative..."

"Yesh, of courss. Wuell, you shee, they's aull theem parrakeets theem, and theen they's all gert strungled."

Holmes jolted out of his seat immediately.

"Are you sure of this, my lady?"

The woman was so startled by his sudden action, that she was quite speechless for a time, in which Holmes sat down again, ate two whole plates of canned beans and asparagus, and read his newspaper twice over. Finally she answered.

"Yesh."

"That can only mean one thing, my dear Wichston."

"What is that, Holmes?"

"That can only mean one thing, my dear Wichston."

"Holmes, you already said that."

"Yes. I, uh, did it for effect. As I was saying, this could only mean one thing!"

"Thu whuat cain meen oinly uan theeng?"

"The thing!" Said Holmes.

"The parakeets!" Said I, exasperated.

"What parakeets?" Holmes looked at me quizzically.

"The ones that got strangled, for God's sake, think!" I yelled.

"Oh yes, quite. That reminds me."answered Holmes.

"Of what, Holmes, of what?"

"That it can only mean one thing!"

"What?!!!" I ejaculated.

"That JC Janey's House of Top Hats is selling at half-price today!"

As Holmes said this, I decided there were two obvious courses of action that could be taken. One was to take the case, and solve it. The other, to buy Top hats at JC Janey's. As I pondered on what to do, I actually made the stupid mistake of asking Holmes what he thought.

"Well, obviously, the correct path to take would be....hey, wait a second Wichston. You know in that sentence when you said:
"What?!!!" I ejaculated.??"

"Yes I remember that, it was only about a paragraph ago." I said.

"Yesh, ee sauw it tu." Said the interested woman.

"Well," said Holmes "What did you mean by 'ejaculating', because you know, Wichston, it could...."

My previous train of thought slipped from my mind. Somebody else would have to decide for us.

Ok, time to decide-

- D-Lotus

[Muaddib]

hahahahahhahahahahahahahah
arthur conan doyle is stabbing pics of d-lotus in his grave.

[D-Lotus]

Hehe, I'm glad it conveyed that feeling. Although I just barely posted this up, so I'm surprised you read it already, muaddib. Oh yeah, last thing...I dedictae this story to three people:


Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, one of my favorite authors. :D
Muaddib :wink:
annnnnddddd

MORDOK :D

[Reiso]

Very un-like anything we've seen from you before, D. I think I like it. If you like Old Holmes (and parodies of him), check out Without a Clue, if you already haven't. While it's a far cry from Ben Kingsley's finest work, it may very well be Michael Caine's finest work.

:D

[Smee]

Definately different from your usual work. :)

I'd say by the increased frequency of typographical errors that you'd taken excess haste in the production of this chapter. The facetious nature of it though is sufficient excuse for such oversights, and are as such, forgiven. :wink:

It is well understood that the word 'ejaculating' is merely an alternative in semantic meaning to the word 'talking - in the days of old anyway. Young whippersnappers these days give it a far cruder definition.

The choices for our next endevour seem obvious. The strangled budgies are going nowhere, whereas JC Janey only has a sale such as this once a century. If we should find a clue at the sale, then that would be most convenient, and lucky.

Happy Writing. :)

[ethereal_fauna]

Why yes, a SALE at JC Janey's. What woman can resist a sale. On accessories none-the-less. Please describe it in full detail before moving on to the cold, stiffened feathery corpse of our poor expired birdy.

And anyways, don't you RETIRE to bed and QUIT your bed when you rise? It seems as if he got up just to move to the couch and fall back asleep.

[Mordok]

Wow, me and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle in the same dedication. Top Of The World, Ma!

Very funny stuff, D-man. I knew you were witty, but writing a whole comedic story is alot different from posting wise cracks. I'm impressed.

If your going to solve crimes you should look good doing it. I say the sale is as good a place to start as any. Maybe we can find something to spruce up the looks of our client there.

[D-Lotus]

haha, thanks guys...

Quote: And anyways, don't you RETIRE to bed and QUIT your bed when you rise? It seems as if he got up just to move to the couch and fall back asleep

I noticed this right after proof reading it at about 11 o clock and I had to go to bed... I'll fix it now.

Smee, you're right, I was just experimentiing...

ok, poll is up.

[Mordok]

Only at IF and in D's story would the decision in a mystery ever be, Go shopping.

Thats almost as funny as the story itself.