Thursday, December 11, 2014

Ask Jeeves

Finish That Thought #2-23 (Judge's Comments)
Prompt: Three strangers appeared on my [doorstep] and in their [hands] they brought death.
Special Challenge: Include at least THREE of the following literary characters: Edward Rochester, Jo March, Harry Potter, Anne Shirley, Sherlock Holmes, Katniss Everdeen, Dracula, Miss Havisham, Rhett Butler, Lucy Pevensie, Gandalf the Grey

Three strangers appeared on my balcony, and in their little blue box they brought death. Oh, not actual grim reaper Death, but a death to all of my delightful plans for that afternoon. I just folded my newspaper to set it aside when the most awful noise came from outside. Before I knew it, a police box materialized on the balcony of my apartment and out stepped a young woman, a ginger-haired man in tweeds, and what appeared to be a Charles Dickens look-alike. What a good prank this was turning out to be! Deciding to play along, I jumped to my feet in agitated excitement.

“I say!” I cried out as I approached the French door, “who are you? And how did you get...? Where did you...? What...?”

“Lucy Pevensie,” the young woman replied cheerily, stepping through the doorway and into my sitting room. She stuck out her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Wooster.” I shook it absently as her companions fell in behind her.

“Look here, you can’t just barge into a fellow’s house-”

“I am The Doctor,” interrupted the ginger-haired man with a wide, sly grin. He did not offer his hand but instead winked and tugged out the strangest little device I’d ever seen and pointed it about the room. I stared at him in bewilderment.

“Doctor Who?”

“No, no. Just The Doctor, mate.”

“Good God, you’re Australian!” I exclaimed.

“Haven’t I a right to be? It’s not like this is BBC.” The Doctor, whoever he was, then tucked his bizarre stick back inside his suit jacket and turned his gaze to me again. “We’re here to see Jeeves, is he around?”

“What, do you know Jeeves? What the devil do you want him for?”

“Oh, it’s the most horrid thing!” Lucy set down the photograph she’d been examining. “Pip has hired Sherlock Holmes to discover his benefactor!” My look of utter cluelessness must have been evident for she continued in equal passion, “There won’t be much left of the book if he finds out Miss Havisham isn’t his benefactor now and poor Mr. Dickens’ book will cease to exist! We desperately need Jeeves’ advice.”

I looked at the silent, bearded fellow then in absolute bafflement. This was quickly getting out of hand for a joke and quite possibly a result from a trip to the club. Had I gone already? I must have. I needed Jeeves’ tonic. In a daze I wandered out of the room in search of my valet.


A short time later all was explained, remedied, and I had my flat to myself again. Kicking my feet up, I exclaimed, “You are marvelous, Jeeves! How did you convince Holmes?”

“Yes sir, thank you, sir. It was relatively simple, I merely told Mr. Holmes who the benefactor was.”

“What, that’s all?”

“Yes, sir.”

“He dropped the case?”

“Completely, sir. It no longer intrigued him.”

“Who is the actual benefactor, Jeeves?”

“Well, sir, I suggest you read the book.”

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