“Well, upon my word,” worded Walinda Fervent in her word-hole, aka mouth. “What manner of
sock is this? Tis not from my foot, that’s for certain! But if not mine, then whose? Whose foot
slides sturdily into this sock here, here in my hand? It is not mine, it is meant for a man, and I am
not a man. Not even remotely! This is a puzzler, to be sure! A puzzler. ”
The puzzle was abruptly punctured with a sudden burst by Banacek, Miss Fervent’s brutish
butler. “Miss Fervent, can I have my sock back?” he asked, gravelly voice giving way to wailing
whine. “My right foot is freezing!”
“A butler’s sock? Ee-hee-ew!” Walinda Fervent shrieked, and lobbed the sock through the air
and onto the longing foot of the brutish butler.
Thus ends this Twenty Second Mystery. Join us next time for the Mystery of Where The Other
“Ring, ring!” rang the phone.
“What, what, what is that ringing?” queried Walinda Fervent. “Whence it cometh? Wherefore art its clangs commence? What do those questions even mean?” Walinda fervent tore crazily at her hairpiece, renting it hither and thither. “Whom? Whom? Whom is making this infernal racket rocket infernally throughout my abode? Whom?”
Just then, the answering machine picked up: “You have reached the Answering Machine of Walinda Fervent. Please leave a message after the tone.”
“Miss Fervent? It was the telephone ringing. This is your long-lost brother, by the way.”
And so ends another Twenty Second Mystery. Join us next time for the Elegant Electronic Mail Mystery!
“Hmm hm hmm hmm, hmmm hmmmmmm,” hummed Walinda Fervent, tongue tap-dancing daintily across perfectly spaced teeth, tremulous tones bouncing off pursed lips and reverberating ricochetily within her moneyed mouth. “Hmm,” she said, this time in a thoughtful, rather than melodic manner. “I just cannot recall it! What mellifluous melody has captured my conundrum-creased cranium? What sonorous song snagged my memory, enmeshed yet masked, a sad stranger in familiar frocks? What is this song? It’s on the tip of my tongue- literally! What could it be? What? What? What? Hmm hm hmm hmm, hmmm hmmmmmm!” she hummed again.
Buttling in the breezeway, brutish butler Banacek belayed his buttling, intrigued. “Why, Miss Walinda Fervent. Is that ‘Happy Birthday’ you’re humming?” he asked.
“Yes! Yes, that’s what it is! ‘Happy Birthday,’ Banacek!”
“I’m so touched you remembered,” Banacek bashfully replied.
“Uh, right. Of course,” Walinda Fervent said, covering nicely.
And so ends another Twenty Second Mystery. Join us next time for the Mysterious Mystery of the Next Mystery.
“Yum!” declared Walinda Fervent, eyes squoze shut in reverent glee. “This fantastic, fabulous, fan dance-inducing fish has exploded joyously across my tongue. What flavors! What amazing aromas! And yet, it is nonetheless taunting my taste buds, mocking my mouth and insulting my I-wanna-know glands. What is this exquisite ichthyologic entrée? What course has confounded me so, I mean, what have I just eaten?” Her hands flung helplessly in the air as if releasing confetti of despair.
“Would you like some more tilapia, Miss Fervent?” her cook Cicada asked.
“Tilapia! My new most favorite food in the whole wide culinary universe is called tilapia! Tilapia! The name rolls off the tongue, sounding almost as delicious as it tastes. Why, my first-born child will be branded Tilapia in honor of this most glorious of gourmet meals.”
“Miss Fervent?” Cicada asked again.
“Yes, I would like some more tilapia, please.”
And so ends another Twenty Second Mystery. Join us next time for the Stunning Secret of the Shirt Stain.
“Sweet, sweet, Josephine Christmas Tree!” cried the lamenting lady of the massive manor, from her boudoir bed. “I have just had the most confounding of frightening nightmares, and it appears to have frisked away the most essential self-referring mention from my memory! I have completely forgotten my name! Who am I? To what label do I answer? How do I sign my autograph? I may never know again, and live out my days nameless, without identity! Oh, woe, oh anguish, oh anxiety, oh distress, oh misery, oh sorrow, oh synonym for sadness! I must drown my blue funk in buttermilk pancakes forthwith. Margarina!” She called for her maid to provide the pancakes with which to drown her despair.
“Yes, Miss Walinda Fervent?” Margarina asked as she entered the room of Walinda Fervent.
“Walinda Fervent, that is my name! Oh, Margarina, you have solved the uncrackable case! Oh joy, oh bliss, oh felicity, oh joviality, oh merriment, oh jubilation, oh other words for happiness! I must celebrate this serendipity with buttermilk pancakes forthwith.”
And so ends another Twenty Second Mystery. Join us next time for the Somewhat Shoe-Like Scent Stumper.
“Oh, my sky-twinklers and sock holder-uppers!” wailed Walinda Fervent from her cozy cubical craft corner high in her Hobby Hutch Room of her massive millionaire mansion overlooking her lavish lawn. “My Minuscule Thimble! My most prized of prized possessions I possess! The most cared-of keepsake in my crafty collection! Missing! Lost! Snatched! Disappeared! Vamoosed! Vanished! Purloined! Am-scrayed! Scrambled away! And what’s more, it’s gone! Not here! Where could it have gone? Who would be so dastardly, so devious, so underhanded, so criminal, so villainous, so vile, so rude, crude, lewd, shrewd, and unglued as to steal from me, an angelic innocent wealthy dowager? Was it my sly sister Sue-Ellen? Mayhaps my maid Margarina? Or the brutish butler Banacek?” She hoist her eyeballs to the heavens, crying crazily, “Where has it gone? Where oh where oh where oh where oh where oh where could it have- oh, there it is. It was under my prized Thimble of Average Size all along. Phew! Relief!”
And so ends another Twenty Second Mystery. Join us next time for the Mystical Misplacement of Car Keys.