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You run to the eagle cage as fast as you can. When you get there, you immediately feel that something is wrong. The cage is empty. A sign on it reads: “Dear zoo patron: the eagle exhibit is closed for maintenance. Please move along on foot.”
Move along on foot?
“I’ve been set up,” you realize out loud.
“Very good, little detective,” says a voice behind you. You’d know that idiot voice anywhere, but…it can’t be…
You turn around and you’re face to face with Quade.
“But…you’re dead!” you stammer. “I saw your deadness!”
“Oh, you’re even dumber than I thought. Don’t you see? It was all a trap to distract you from keeping your New Year’s resolution. If you had taken the plastic bag off of my ‘corpse’ you would have realized that it wasn’t me, but an innocent man who happens to share my body type. I knew from there you’d get distracted by the sound of an ice cream truck and end up going on a little ride with my friend Stove. That’s right, I’m the leader of “The Syndicate” that hired him. The North American Crossword Syndicate, that is. How do you think I got so good at crossword puzzles? I wrote them. All of them. And you know what else? You’ll never finish that puzzle. Because there are no four-letter words for ‘move along on foot’ that fit into sixteen down.”
His smug little idiot face is unbearable. You can’t believe you fell for his little game. But you still have one more trick up your sleeve.
“I guess you’re not so good at crossword puzzles after all, Quade.” You pull the crossword out of your pocket and, right in front of his face, fill in sixteen down with ‘dash.’ It fits perfectly. Quade is speechless.
“It doesn’t matter,” he says idiotically, “because once I tell the police you assisted in the transportation of a live gryphon, you’ll be going to jail for a long time. It’s gonna be hard for you to keep that resolution, since they don’t have crossword puzzles for you to do in jail. Only Sudoku.”
“You’re forgetting one thing, Quade.”
“Oh? And what’s that?”
“Technically, the government already has you accounted for as deceased, and I’m holding a high-powered rifle.”
In front of a crowd of families and endangered birds, you blast that motherfucker straight to hell.
Your excursion ends here.
2 years ago • Notes