I’d like to say that the statuesque broad that approached my door that day was a tall drink of water, but my perceptions that day were clouded by the fact that she was soaked head to toe. I couldn’t even tell the color of her hair, though I can say that she was dripping with apprehension. I can still see her in my memories the determined way she approached my glass door. She had legs that went all the way to the floor and a pair of lips built to read words, that last part I could verify as I watched her mouth out "Terrible Metaphor Guy, Private Instigator" before wrapping her clenched, bloodless knuckles on my door.
"Hello, Mr. TMG. Are you in there?"
I opened the door and could smell the tragedy waiting to happen. It didn’t take a detective to figure out that I was torn between wanting to see her coming and going.
"Hiya, doll, what can I do you for?"
"I think somebody is trying to sabotage my team and the police can’t help me. You’re my only hope!"
Most folk see the P.I. title and assume that I’m some kind of private dick. A private instigator is just a fella who tries to confuse folk enough to get them riled up. I just want to get people stupid enough to believe silly things, like that people ever actually mean to include any part of South Carolina that isn’t Myrtle Beach when they say ‘the Carolinas.’ However, life is tough and I needed the business.
"Sure, sweet heart, I’ll be your General Kenobi. Now, how abouts you start off by telling me how you got so drenched?"
I may not be a detective, but a sad and sodden woman walking into my office on a bright and too-damn warm December afternoon still struck me as suspicious.
"Some kids down the street busted a fire hydrant to make their own water park. It’s this unseasonable weather we’re having. I think it is all part of a conspiracy against the Panthers."
"And what makes you think that anything other than global warming and Al Gore are to blame?"
"Well, you know that wizard down the street, the one that sells meat wands? He told me that something like this happened when he was at Hogwarts and that it was the result of some dark wizard named Lord VoldeBrees."
She meant Greg Hardy, the vendor at the Kraken Hot Dog stand. The man was never short for an interesting conversation, and he sure could grill a good ‘meat wand’. Something definitely did smell a bit fishy and I figure one food vendor might know another. Maybe this case would be good for a lark, maybe it would be dangerous. Regardless, it would beat sitting in the office and twiddling my thumbs, so to speak.
"Alright, you go rest your pretty head, maybe find a towel. I’ll see what I can do for you. Terrible Metaphor Guy is on the case."
Do you want to see how TMG’s conversation with the Kraken goes? Would you like to find out if the Panthers are under attack from dark and sinister forces? Tune in next week for Chapter 2 – The Glass Hot Dog!