The Guy in the Clawfoot Sidecar
Queer, that.- I knew right then it was the same person
- Jeff’s hairless coconut
- bent at the elbow
- fed them molasses
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The guy in the clawfoot sidecar looked quite solid, even though he claimed to be a ghost. Queer, that. He also looked quite familiar, especially his bald head. Brandita revved the throttle impatiently. Baldy gestured again to the deep end of the tub. “What are you waiting for, an engraved invitation?”
His words made me think of wedding invitations, and of the ceremony I’d participated in a few hours earlier, and of the Viscount whom I had impersonated during that ceremony, and of a photo I had once seen of that Viscount and his missing brother, Viscount Jeff. I knew right then it was the same person in the photo and in the bathtub. This was the ghost of Arlo’s brother. But why on earth was he haunting this plumbing fixture?
I finally climbed into the tubcar and stared at the wound on the back of Viscount Jeff’s hairless coconut. Brandita gunned it and we tore down the driveway. As we sped through the night, I transferred my studious examination from Jeff’s head to his arms. Particularly the left one, which was bent at the elbow in entirely the wrong direction.
I tried to think like my favorite fictional investigator, Transylvania Homicide Detective Regis St Oink Oink, who, before questioning a suspect, always fed them molasses by the bottleful. I had no molasses, but if I questioned Jeff properly, I might be able to get Arlo arrested for murder. And then I’d never have to deal with that dick again.
bonus points for using them in order