Craven Gets Flashed XIII

 

Story endings are a bit like life itself. Some end with a gentle sigh. Others with a scratch of the head and a What the hell was that all about? feel to it. This story is no different. And, no, you haven’t got eczema. You’ve simply got too much Craven in your hair.

 

And the end is coming. Soon.

“The Yorkville chapter of the Baker Street Irregulars welcomes you to Ramone’s Pizza,” said its president Victor Wiggins, otherwise known as a Yorkville dentist. “Apologies for the inconvenience. As you know, Yorkville’s VFW hall was out of the question this year owing to its having caught fire during our last meeting. Which is why we implore you to leave your pipes and kerosene lanterns unlit this year. Please note that pretend smoking will not be frowned upon if it helps with your character’s development. Speaking of characters; I’d like to introduce you to a new edition to the group: Miss Irene Adler! Yes, the woman. That’s if she can pull herself away from Ramone for a moment. Miss Adler? Hello? Miss? Hello? Well, we’ll get to her later. Make sure to save her a seat at the banquet table; next to you know who.

“Also of note is Ramone Vasquez’s extraordinary generosity. He was kind enough to offer the use of his facilities free of charge. And as a sporting gesture on my part Ramone will get a year’s worth of teeth cleanings. I’ve even offered to yank a wisdom tooth — just for fun. Three cheers for Ramone Vasquez! Ramone, take a bow. Ramone? Sir? Hello? This could be trouble, folks. Miss Adler seems to have cast a spell on our host. Let’s keep a bucket of iced-cold water handy, just in case.

“As to the first order of business, I will leave that to our guest speaker. The great man himself. Mr. Sherlock Holmes! All rise, and sing the hearty Holmes tune in his honor.”

“All right, lads,” said Joe the Butcher. “Raise yer voices high. There’s pints a plenty waitin’ at the end. And don’t be rushin’ the barmaid neither, ya beer swillin’ heathens. Pretend she’s yer mum and show the proper respect. On three! And a one and a two and a . . .

 

Who’s the sleuth

who’s keen and couth?

It’s no-shite Sherlock Holmes

 

The game’s a foot

Your crime‘s kaput

Says no-shite Sherlock Holmes

 

Three cheers for the

mighty man

who fancies

Irene Adler

 

If she gave him

half a chance. . .

you know that he’d

have at her!

 

“Bravo!” said Holmes, otherwise known as Kenny, the Yorkville dry cleaner. “You’ve done me proud, lads. Had I a tendency to weep, I’d no doubt shed buckets of happy tears. But emotions inhibit the analytical mind. And, unless my analytical mind deceives me — Ramone — that pizza tossing lothario — is at this very moment applying his much heralded kneading skills upon the ample derriere of the highly admired Miss Adler! Choose your weapon, you blackguard! Sword, pistol, or fisticuffs! It makes no matter to me, as I am highly proficient in all three of the manly arts!”

“Then make ready to die, senor Holmes!” said Ramone. “Make ready to die!”

“Uh, oh,” said Joe. “Give ‘em room, boys. Give ‘em room. But first, pass me my pint and whiskey, and let the bout begin! Go, Holmsey!”

***

“Hang on to your hat, Mr. Danger,” said Jenny. “I see some police action at Ramone’s Pizza. I’m gonna pull over and hit the brakes!”

“Hit the brakes?” said Craven. “All you have to do to stop this caterpillar is to take a deep breath.”

“Very funny, wise guy. Now let’s get in there before they haul away the bodies.”

“If there were any bodies at Ramone’s, they’ve no doubt had their funerals by now, and the gravediggers are on their merry way to the nearest tavern. Which is where I should be. Driving with you is like driving with my grandma. She couldn’t see over the steering wheel either. I could have walked along the side of this car — smoking a cigarette and holding on to the door handle — without once losing my breath.”

“You’ll lose your breath if I stuff that fedora down your throat, Mr. Danger.  Now, let’s go and get some blood and guts front page photos.”

“How come you’re so sure there’s a body?”

“The ambulance, Mr. Detective. The ambulance.”

“Oh.”

 

Illustration Courtesy of Wiki Commons: 

https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?search=Irene+Adler&title=Speci...