Chapter 2,223
Detective Trevor Whipple sat at his desk eating a sandwich. Suddenly there came a knock on his office door.
“Who is it?” asked the detective, wiping the blood from his mouth and setting the severed head down gently.
“It’s Daniel,” said a voice outside the door.
The Detective stood and pulled up his pants, tucking in his shirt.
Chapter 2,223
Detective Trevor Whipple sat at his desk eating a sandwich. Suddenly there came a knock on his office door.
“Who is it?” asked the detective, wiping the blood from his mouth and setting the severed head down gently.
“It’s Daniel,” said a voice outside the door.
The Detective stood and pulled up his pants, tucking in his shirt.
“Who?”
“I said, Daniel”
“Sorry I don’t know anyone named Daniel,” said the detective slyly, twirling his handlebar mustache around his finger.
“Ha-HA!” shouted the man (Daniel) as he kicked open the office door, bursting inside.
He looked quickly around, and spotting the bowler hat on Trevor’s coat rack, gave a shout. After snatching the hat he sprinted to the window and kicked at the screen, sending it clattering to the sidewalk, 17 stories below.
“You’ve double crossed me for the last time Johnson,” shouted the man, “and now I’ve got your bowler hat!”
“The source of my power!” cried the detective, spinning in his desk chair and pumping his fist.
The thief jumped out the window, landing with a grunt on the street below. He stood and dusted himself off with a horsehair brush. He sat for a time in the street.
“Stop thief!” the detective shouted out the window.
“Fiddle-dee-dee, can’t catch me!” The thief began to dance.
“What are you, a leprechaun?” The detective asked.
“Nevermind,” said the thief, “off I go!”
“Get bag here with my hat you wretched vagabond!” shouted the detective, leaning out the window and shaking his fist like an old cartoon man as the other man (Daniel) ran down the lane.
Footsteps faded into the night. The detective wondered how the man could have escaped. He had done everything he could to stop him. It was a shame he didn’t have a motorcar, he thought, or he could have run the scoundrel down like a small child or pony. Luckily he always kept a spare hat
in his desk drawer. He walked over to his desk and slowly pulled open the drawer. Inside was a small white slip of paper. He unfolded it and read aloud:
“Do you like me? Check yes or no.”
There were two boxes: One marked “yes”, and the other, “no”.
The detective sighed, and checked “yes”.