NO FEELING BETTER

A horse was in the house. No one knew how it got there. It was intended for the garage. Its carriage was still out there, where the horse was supposed to be. No one would have been opposed if the horse had never entered the house. But he had. He had already stepped on a carpet and broken two lamps. One by one we went around the room and asked the guests if they were responsible for this turn of events. “Alex?” Alex shook his head. “Terrence?” Terrence shook his head. “Louis?” Louis shook his head. “Richard?” Richard shook his head. Those were all the guests. We had no suspects left. Terrence raised his hand. Detective Javier Ruiz de Larrinaga-Somavia smiled at me. He was sure that Terrence was about to give a confession, and his certainty made me smile, too. I was every bit as interested as Detective Javier Ruiz de Larrinaga-Somavia  in solving the mystery of the horse in the house. “Yes,” said Terrence. “You see, what I think, well, the thing is, I mean to say.” Detective Javier Ruiz de Larrinaga-Somavia rushed over and began to strike Terrence with a riding crop. This was a technique of his that I had read about in books. It was called “Get The Villain With the Victim’s Gear.” Some police departments had come to abbreviate it as GVVG, or “Givivig.” Detective Javier Ruiz de Larrinaga-Somavia was givviging Terrence to move the words along. The technique works. As the books say, “The technique, if administered correctly, always works.” “Kirkpatrick,” Terrence said. “Kirkpatrick is not in the room.” We looked out the window. Kirkpatrick was in the garage with the carriage, pointing at us and snickering. He had been responsible all along. We forgave him because he had a beautiful sister that we all wanted to marry, even Detective Javier Ruiz de Larrinaga-Somavia. I sighed wearily while Alex, Louis, and Richard began to clean up the pieces of the broken lamp. Kirkpatrick kept snickering. The culprit profited from the pulchritude of another. The brother escaped on the basis of the sister’s face. A horse was in the house.

©2021 Ben Greenman/Stupid Ideas