The Empty Bottle
I had to dig deeper. There was a killer out there. I had to find him before he struck again. Victims were dropping faster than participants in a certain mid-winter writing challenge.
When the Chief says get on the case, he's not talking about scotch. I'd received a tip that a fourth Amigo may have had some knowledge about the untimely demise of his three Amigo brothers. So Jack Gouda was back in the hunt.
When the Chief says get on the case, he's not talking about scotch. I'd received a tip that a fourth Amigo may have had some knowledge about the untimely demise of his three Amigo brothers. So Jack Gouda was back in the hunt.
His first name was Isuza. For some reason people associated Isuza Amigo with the car business but he actually owned a chain of supermarkets in Puerto Rico.
Izzy, as most called him, was a quiet, low-key individual. Of the four Amigo brothers Izzy was the one who rose above criminal activity. He was kinda the Amigo version of Zeppo Marx. He was on the level, a straight shooter - not in the literal sense, 'cause he didn't carry a gun - in short an honest man. Not a short, honest man because Izzy was 6'2". And, like Zeppo, he wasn't funny.
Izzy'd agreed to meet me in a quaint out-of-the-way Mexican cantina. I should have known better to accept given my nasty relationship with alcohol but, hey, who said we were gonna drink, right?
When I arrived I inquired of the bartender, "Izzy, here?"
"Is who here?" came his reply.
"You know" I said "Izzy."
"Look, Jack, I don't know how I can tell you if he's here or not unless you give me his name."
This was a clever bartender. He knew my name. But just then Izzy appeared seemingly from out of nowhere at my elbow. This was kind of odd because I knew he was from out of Puerto Rico.
"Hey, Jack, let's sit down. Jack, want some cheese?"
"Are you making fun of me, Izzy?"
"Not at all. I like Jack Cheese."
With the cheese came a bottle of tequila. Our little chat was about to get interesting as long as Izzy didn't worm his way out of it.
A half hour later the cheese was gone and the empty bottle of tequila lay on its side on the table top.
Izzy, having imbibed much more than me, not to mention the worm, snored away lazily, his chin resting on his chest. But not before he'd passed along his thoughts on his brothers' murders, not to mention who he thought was the murderer.
Day 5 of 28 of the riveting tale of Inspector Jack Gouda who calls his precinct the Cheese Shop because it's whey out of town. Check the links at We Work For Cheese to see how the rest of these imbeciles are dealing with the daily prompts.
Comments
Glad to hear he spilled the beans or at least a few of them.
I love short-form jokes.
Finally he asked his cell mate what was going on.
"Well," he was told, "most of us have been in here for a long time and we've told the same jokes over and over again. So we ended up assigning numbers to each and now we just have to call out the number."
"That's great," said the new prisoner, "I'm going to try." Taking a deep breath he called out, "Fourteen!"
Absolute silence.
"Why aren't they laughing?" he asked his cell mate.
"You didn't tell it right."
Two of my favorite laughs:
Victims were dropping faster than participants in a certain mid-winter writing challenge.
When the Chief says get on the case, he's not talking about scotch.
You are an amazingly punny man, Dufus!
get interesting as long as Izzy didn't worm his way out of it."
That's my favorite line!
Also - I'm excited to find out what Izzy told Jack about the murder of his three brothers, before he passed out!