We had an injury (Clark got struck by a rock, making the first part of the note come true)...
And we had a hunch. "Well, if it turns out to be legit, it's probably the work of D I-ngo Serra" said Clark.
And we had a prediction - "Friday someone DIES!!"
I decided to find out all I could about this D I-ngo Serra person. What sort of person has a name with a hyphen after a capital letter and before a consonant? Someone with a slim grasp on the English language, I'll wager. But more of that later - I had some research to do.
The first and most obvious thing to do would be to see if this blatherskite Serra had a Facebook page. I am not sure if you've heard of it - it's quite popular with the kids, I am given to understand.
Sure enough, D-Ingo Serra DID have a Facebook page. I immediately set to looking at the photos that were posted there. Hmm. To say they were enigmatic was an understatement. If there were people in the pictures, their faces were obscured or turned away. If they were by some haphazard chance not blurry or fuzzy, there was no way of knowing (a)whether it was indeed D I-ngo, and (b)whether it was male or female. So I ended up drawing a blank.
I took my lack of findings to the guys. We scratched our heads. We scratched our gentleman's areas. Then, we danced the hoochie-koochie. We were well and truly stumped.
And then, this morning, it all began to unravel.
Firstly, Clark left right after breakfast, which was unusual even for him. In cases like this, when direct threats have been made against us, we usually stay on task until the job is done. But Clark said he had just remembered he had a hair appointment and had to hurry on to the salon. Unusual, really - his hair is immaculate most every day and I've never known him use the services of anyone other than the Unbelievababes. Still - if he had an appointment, then who were Michael and myself to rock the boat. We trusted Clark and figured he knew what he was up to.
Shortly after Clark went for his hair appointment, Michael and I were stuck for answers. We began clutching at straws. Then we clutched at pretzels. Then we clutched at the vacuum cleaner. Anything to try to come up with some ideas.
It was while vacuuming the Unbelievadesk for the sixth time this morning that Michael finally noticed something. A full-color half-page ad on the back of the Yellow Pages.
Now, this got our attention, not least because it is 2014 already and there are still people in the world using Comic Sans.
That bad spelling... the word 'Dingo'... a hair salon... the word 'dieing'... Clark having a hair appointment... it was all starting to make sense. Especially with that '$5 off' thing. Not saying that Clark's a cheapskate, but...
We needed no second bidding. Michael and I bolted to the car and hightailed it to this place of bad spelling and hair products. The way we saw it, Clark was walking into a trap, although what sort of a trap had yet to be seen.
We screeched to a halt outside, even though we'd only gone four blocks. Rushing in, we found Clark, sitting in the chair. This, ladies and gentlemen, is how our compadre looked.
Shocked, we started to try to tell Clark that he had walked smack dab into a trap, when we were interrupted in our friend-advising-endeavours by none other than D I-ngo Serra her(him?)self (we're still unsure).
"Ah, the Unbelieva-gents. Care to take a seat? I'm just about finished with your friend here. What'll it be? Crew cut? Short back and sides? Mullet?"
"Not so fast, you illiterate fiend," snarled Michael. "We know what you're up to. You're going to try to kill one of us, aren't you? That's your evil plan! Well, I'd like to see you try!"
"Yeah," I put in. "What he said!"
"I-I don't understand, guys.." quivered D I-ngo. "I'm just a hairstylist with poor literacy skills. Why would I want to hurt you guys. You guys are my heroes!"
At this point Clark interjected. "Listen boys, it's all very simple. D I-ngo and I had a bit of a falling out. But we made up after I realised that the rock that knocked me unconscious on Wednesday was just D I-ngo's way of reminding me about my hair appointment. I got a dye job!"
"Haha! You mean DIE job, don't you?" I retorted.
"Yes," replied D I-ngo. "I left that note in your mailbox to remind Clark about his appointment. I kinda forgot which one of you guys made the appointment, which is why the note said "someone". I was reminding him that he'd get a reminder (a rock in the noggin) and then on Friday get his hair tinted."
Well, we were shocked. Then we were amazed. Then we all stared at Clark, and Michael said "Buddy, that truly is a DIE job!"
Michael likes to repeat jokes.
Still, we all fell about laughing anyway. Wouldn't you?
|"I don't see what's so funny."|