Tuesday, May 24, 2005

The Mystery of the Girl With a Toy Husky

Most people don't really observe, and most people aren't really cool. It's cool to solve mysteries. You can't be a failure, looser or drunken-looser-failure if you've solved a mystery or two.

These were the conclusions reached last night by Latigo Flint and his relatively trusty sidekick, Kid Relish.

The Kid and I were deep in conversation at our outdoor table at the local restaurant when a cute girl came into view. She was holding a dog, a miniature Husky, in her arms. I took a moment to appreciate her approaching form in the dim light before turning back to the Kid. "Kid, we don't have a deed or any papers of partial ownership on this cafe, yet unequivocally we consider it ours. Isn't that a bit strange?"

The Kid stopped sipping his beer, frowned and looked up. "Latty that's a mystery." The straw slipped from his lips and slowly sank beneath the foam. "It's a mystery, it's a mystery!" His mouth returned to the glass edge expecting to find the straw. Dismay tugged at his big brown eyes when he discovered the straw had descended to the bottom of the stein. I politely pretended not to notice. Then it occurred to me:

"I've got it Kid. See that patio umbrella?" The Kid turned his entire body to glance at it. "Kid, if someone tried to steal that patio umbrella, who would shoot him?" A wide, comprehending grin flashed across The Kid's face. "You and I Latty - You and I would shoot him. The owner wouldn't, the stockholders wouldn't, the busboy wouldn't. It'd be you and I who would shoot that lowdown patio umbrella thief."

I gave my relatively trusty sidekick a warm smile. "You know Kid, that's about the length and breadth of my reckoning as well."

We smiled at each other in a contemplative silence and then the girl with a toy Husky in her arms walked past our table. Turns out she wasn't cute - she was stunning. She was gorgeous. She was the sort of beautiful that would let you remember vowels... and very little else.

I bolted from my chair in a dead sprint across the patio in the opposite direction she was traveling. (It made sense at the time, don't ask me why.) My shin collided with one of those tall propane heaters so hard that I tasted marrow. I lurched back towards The Kid, dragging my left leg behind me. Kid had somehow managed to crack the wrought iron table nearly in two. We watched her walk away

I started screaming first, random lines from Jack London novels. The Kid leaned back, shrieked at the night sky and started driving silverware into his thigh.

Then she was gone.

Without taking his eyes from the empty street, the Kid reached back to touch me on the knee. He was holding a steak knife. I avoided his hand. "Latigo! Why isn't she coming back?!"

I shook my head sorrowfully. "Kid it's a mystery, a mystery. I'd burn this city down to have her walk past us one more time, and I know you would too. Yet for all that passion, she stays departed... I tell you, a mystery, a mystery."

The Kid slowly turned to stare at me, an expression of awe and respect replacing his anguish.

"My God Latigo... you've solved the mystery. Maybe it's not too late." He grabbed two nearby ambient candles and ran to the restaurant wall. "Help me Latty; enough candles and you know this stucco is gonna go up." I limped to the propane heater and started dragging it over.

The authorities stopped us shortly thereafter. We were unable to burn the city down and the girl did not return. If that doesn't solve the mystery of why the girl with a toy Husky in her arms did not return, then The Kid and I don't know what would.


At 7:21 AM, Blogger Lance Manion said...

You know, I had always thought it coincidence, but the great Chicago fire of 1871 took place shortly after the introduction of the toy husky.

I don't suppose Grandpappy Flint was anywhere in the area...

At 9:48 AM, Blogger Cad Grublygold said...

I always love a good mystery, I also love a rusty stake knife in the thigh.

At 11:22 AM, Blogger OldHorsetailSnake said...

You better think of having Kid Relish put down. He is starting to show signs of sanity.

At 1:21 PM, Blogger Amandarama said...

Yep, it was a mystery alright: wrapped in a puzzle, keelhauled by an enigma and doused in propane.

I think you went about trying to solve that mystery in the best way possible. Afterall, everything returns to that which it started from once it's been lit on fire. And by this, I mean insurance money.

At 2:54 PM, Blogger Lightning Bug's Butt said...

Your blog would've have been a great case study for my class in abnormal psy... uh, Great Western Lit.

At 6:37 PM, Blogger Blog ho said...

that really came together for me. the passion. the..violence.. the running from the hot women. themes from my life, too, Latigo.

At 6:38 PM, Anonymous tubbyman said...

My humble suggestion: get a 10 gallon hat. It takes a brass pair to wear one of those mofos, and chicks clue in on shit like that. Also, you get the added bonus of having the object of your desire circle around you just to get to the other side, which results in boatloads more time getting visually acquainted with her jiggly, curvy parts.

If that doesn't work, have The Kid don it. There's no mistaking the fact that you have a sidekick if he's wearing a 10 gallon hat. Even better, get him a donkey. Your Dulcinea will appear shortly thereafter.

If you're dead set agin' the 10 gallon hat, you can always take comfort in the fact that chicks dig scars, especially marrow exposing shin scars that you suffered at her expense.

At 7:18 PM, Blogger Cindy-Lou said...

I didn't even see you or I would have stopped to say hi. I was in a hurry to get home and feed the dog.

At 8:25 PM, Blogger Ari said...

Vowels and very little else... tasted marrow... you are so effin great.

At 8:43 PM, Blogger katiedid said...

Brilliantly written as usual. One question, though - just why does the Kid use a straw for beer? I'm not criticizing, only curious.

At 2:58 AM, Blogger Latigo Flint said...

Yep, and according to Flint family legend, he was busy putting it to Mrs. O'Leary, Lance.

When it all comes together, my dear Grublygold, it's a beautiful thing.

We're talking about a human being here Old Hoss!!! Idiosyncratic though he may be, a human being nonetheless!!!

You had me at "keelhauled" Amandarama.

I laughed LBB. You knew I would of course. I laughed and laughed and laughed. (Only some of the time manically.)

When do we tell the internets that we're actually cousins Ho?

Howdy Tubbyman. Okay, first - I already have a ten-gallon hat. Second: Hell yeah, damn straight, and you know it!

That dog is hated Cindy-Lou. Hated by men and dogs alike. They're just jealous though - be sure to reassure him such.

I tell myself I don't need to hear that sort of thing Ari... but damn if it doesn't make my month worthwhile. So thank you. (Please don't tell anyone I'm an artistic sissy.)

You know Katiedid, I have no idea why he does any of the things he do. It makes sense though, don't it? Frankly I'm hard pressed to picture him drinking beer any other way.

At 4:36 PM, Blogger tabitha jane said...

i wish i had a realatively trusty side-kick . . .


Post a Comment

<< Home