The Penguin Problem
I sat in my office with my feet kicked up and my best pal, Conrad Vodka, paying a visit. My blinds sliced the afternoon light like a cheese grater munching cheddar. Sharp cheddar. So sharp it cut your tongue and punched you in the hinge of your jaw like a guy gunning for the prize belt. But enough reminiscing about last night. Just as I was running out of crappy analogies...the kind that smell like fresh laid doggie fertilizer in a hot summer shower…a dame walked into my office. I knew instantly this lady meant business, because she handed me a business card. Real sharp to—the card, I mean. It was stained with blood. My blood. After getting a Band-Aid to cover the paper cut, I read the card. Emily Veinglory—ERWF forum administrator. The name filled me in with answers where the card left only questions. Veinglory—this dame was out for blood and wanted the world to know it. She was a real looker too and once she stopped using my binoculars, I might be able to tell if she was pretty or not. The binoculars hit my desk with a loud clap. She glared at me like a viper does their prey and she had the goods to back it up. White gleaming teeth that reflected the light from my window. Sharp all-knowing eyes that seemed as if they knew the world, but focused on me like an eagle. A gorgeous dame who could make Monday cheat on Friday with Wednesday. I motioned to the chair offering her a place to sit. When she refused, I knew this dangerous beauty was out for something more precious than my blood. This bird wanted my time. She put her red tipped hands on my desk. “I have a problem.” Don’t we all? Why did people bring their burden baskets and leave them in my office like I was some kind of problem solving Easter Bunny? “Shoot.” “No. No one needs to die.” After putting my gun back in my shoulder holster, I nodded. “Good, because this is just a cheap prop.” Cheap like little plastic fingernails held on with pads of double-sided tape. “Go on.” “I will once I tell you my problem.” Back to the problems so soon? This woman didn’t allow any pleasure mixed in her business. “What’s the problem?” “Penguins.” “Penguins? Like nuns?” If this looker had a problem with nuns, then the situation was more dire than I realized. Women who dressed like that and put up a pious front could only be up to no good. No telling what was really discussed behind those cloister walls. “No, like flightless birds.” A flightless bird? Nothing creepier than that. “Sounds bad.” “Real bad. They’ve taken over my forum and they won’t leave. Like a bad joke that just won’t die.” I nodded. We’ve all been there. Something funny happens and some dolt keeps harping on it and dragging others into it and like quicksand it sucks everyone in. “Have they made any demands?” “What?” “Sent a note or something.” “They have no thumbs. What do you expect? Them to peck out a note with their beaks?” She didn’t have to be sarcastic and look at me like I worshiped the King of the Potato People. “You want the snuffed out?” That seemed easy. Lure them away with fish and teach them the ways of the Lemming. “Chewing tobacco is disgusting.” “Agreed. No snuff.” I spit my wad of tobacco into the trashcan and rinsed my mouth with a swig of Vodka. “Want me to rub them out?” “I wouldn’t use such leading phrases like ‘rub’ around these parts.” I returned my feet to the floor and sat up in my chair. “Sounds like you need animal control not me.” “You’re a PI aren’t you?” “Nope, I just like the look.” I held up my keyboard. “I’m a writer. Like…” Panic gripped my mind. I couldn’t think of an analogy. Sans metaphor, I looked at her as my heart pounded in my chest. She leaned over my desk giving me just a hint of her bed pillows. “Then delete them.”
I sat in my office with my feet kicked up and my best pal, Conrad Vodka, paying a visit. My blinds sliced the afternoon light like a cheese grater munching cheddar. Sharp cheddar. So sharp it cut your tongue and punched you in the hinge of your jaw like a guy gunning for the prize belt. But enough reminiscing about last night. Just as I was running out of crappy analogies...the kind that smell like fresh laid doggie fertilizer in a hot summer shower…a dame walked into my office. I knew instantly this lady meant business, because she handed me a business card. Real sharp to—the card, I mean. It was stained with blood. My blood. After getting a Band-Aid to cover the paper cut, I read the card. Emily Veinglory—ERWF forum administrator. The name filled me in with answers where the card left only questions. Veinglory—this dame was out for blood and wanted the world to know it. She was a real looker too and once she stopped using my binoculars, I might be able to tell if she was pretty or not. The binoculars hit my desk with a loud clap. She glared at me like a viper does their prey and she had the goods to back it up. White gleaming teeth that reflected the light from my window. Sharp all-knowing eyes that seemed as if they knew the world, but focused on me like an eagle. A gorgeous dame who could make Monday cheat on Friday with Wednesday. I motioned to the chair offering her a place to sit. When she refused, I knew this dangerous beauty was out for something more precious than my blood. This bird wanted my time. She put her red tipped hands on my desk. “I have a problem.” Don’t we all? Why did people bring their burden baskets and leave them in my office like I was some kind of problem solving Easter Bunny? “Shoot.” “No. No one needs to die.” After putting my gun back in my shoulder holster, I nodded. “Good, because this is just a cheap prop.” Cheap like little plastic fingernails held on with pads of double-sided tape. “Go on.” “I will once I tell you my problem.” Back to the problems so soon? This woman didn’t allow any pleasure mixed in her business. “What’s the problem?” “Penguins.” “Penguins? Like nuns?” If this looker had a problem with nuns, then the situation was more dire than I realized. Women who dressed like that and put up a pious front could only be up to no good. No telling what was really discussed behind those cloister walls. “No, like flightless birds.” A flightless bird? Nothing creepier than that. “Sounds bad.” “Real bad. They’ve taken over my forum and they won’t leave. Like a bad joke that just won’t die.” I nodded. We’ve all been there. Something funny happens and some dolt keeps harping on it and dragging others into it and like quicksand it sucks everyone in. “Have they made any demands?” “What?” “Sent a note or something.” “They have no thumbs. What do you expect? Them to peck out a note with their beaks?” She didn’t have to be sarcastic and look at me like I worshiped the King of the Potato People. “You want the snuffed out?” That seemed easy. Lure them away with fish and teach them the ways of the Lemming. “Chewing tobacco is disgusting.” “Agreed. No snuff.” I spit my wad of tobacco into the trashcan and rinsed my mouth with a swig of Vodka. “Want me to rub them out?” “I wouldn’t use such leading phrases like ‘rub’ around these parts.” I returned my feet to the floor and sat up in my chair. “Sounds like you need animal control not me.” “You’re a PI aren’t you?” “Nope, I just like the look.” I held up my keyboard. “I’m a writer. Like…” Panic gripped my mind. I couldn’t think of an analogy. Sans metaphor, I looked at her as my heart pounded in my chest. She leaned over my desk giving me just a hint of her bed pillows. “Then delete them.”
