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Wednesday, July 11, 2007

Three Word Wednesday - #43


This week's words are:

Private

Crossed

Rinse

This is Bob



Before moving to Eek, Alaska (population: 280), Bob was a Private Detective in Fritch City, Texas (population 2235). What Bob really wanted to be was a law enforcement officer for Fritch City, but because of a convergence problem with his eyes (they crossed involuntarily when the Optometrist gave Bob the sight exam that was mandatory for his pre-law enforcement employment examination) Bob was unable to serve as a police officer in Fritch City.

However, that did not mean that Bob couldn't get his Private Detective's License and try to serve his community by tracking down deadbeats, chasing after couples who were shacking up at the Fritch City Motel-Cocktail-Lounge-Bowling-Alley unbeknownst to their spouses, and occasionally looking for a missing person or two.

The problem was that in a town with a population of 2,235 people, there are not too many deadbeats, missing persons, or spouses cheating on each other. So Bob was having a hard time making enough money each month to pay his office rent, and the astronomical cost of having his trenchcoats cleaned.

Since the temperature in Fritch City, Texas was usually in the mid 90's, and since Bob had a glandular problem that caused him to sweat buckets every time the temperature inside or outside was over 72 degrees, AND since Bob insisted upon looking as professional as possible so he always wore a trenchcoat and fedora no matter what the weather forecast promised, by the end of the day, Bob's trenchcoat looked (and smelled) like it has been rinsed in the Fritch City Creek and then put on Bob to dry. So Bob owned 7 trenchcoats (one for each day of the week) one of which he dutifully dropped off at the end of each day at Sammy's Dry Cleaner and Pizza Shop. Sammy had suggested to Bob many times that he buy himself washable trenchcoats, but Bob thought he made a much better impression in his London Fogs than he did in the Sears Wash-N-Wear line of all-weather apparel.

In the end, though Bob was forced to give up his Private Detective Agency because he just couldn't afford his dry cleaning bills any longer.

As luck would have it, Bob happened to see a notice in the Fritch City Morning Gazette that Eek, Alaska was looking for someone to run a restaurant. The town had one McDonald's, and the folks there were really getting tired of Big Macs and Quarter Pounders. What they wanted was someone to open a fish restaurant; they'd even supply the fish if someone would decorate the building they'd chosen for the restaurant, staff the place, and present a varied menu 7 days a week.

This was like an answer to a prayer for Bob. Not only did he know all kinds of amazing ways to make fish (he was a devoted watcher of Top Chef where he learned to make everything from curried eel with grilled walnut salsa to a nice Amuse Bouche consisting of raw geoduck on a ritz cracker topped with cilantro and basil with just a smidge of peanut butter), but working in the climate of Eek, Alaska, would rid him once and for all of the freshly rinsed look he had in the Fritch City climate.

Bob's story had a very happy ending which just goes to show you that it's true... no matter where you go, even if you sweat buckets, there you are.

3 comments:

gautami tripathy said...

A thoughtful read..

Bone said...

This was incredibly imaginative and descriptive. A fun read, with a nice moral thrown in to boot.

Thanks for playing, Manky.

Gay said...

Smedley would love this guy. "He was a devoted watcher of Top Chef where he learned to make everything from curried eel with grilled walnut salsa to a nice Amuse Bouche consisting of raw geoduck on a ritz cracker topped with cilantro and basil with just a smidge of peanut butter."