I know what you’re thinking.
Grandma’s whiskers! Sainted fish bones! Holy curdled milk! Ms Lilith dead? It cannot be! She was so happy, so gleeful, how could she die before her life-affirming moment?
The retirees gathered around the podium were thinking the same thing. They saw Ms Lilith there, fallen on the podium, her eyes frozen wide open, a look of abject terror imprinted on her face. Her screams echoed in their ears.
“Oh dear….” Mrs Potts voice shook, fearful, uncertain, “What are we going to do know?”
My Wylde reached down towards the podium, his glasses wobbled dangerously, “I wonder what is in the box.” He grasped the little floral purple box and pulled, disengaging it from Ms Lilith’s death grip.
The retirees watched with bated breath as Mr Wylde straightened, and held up the box so that everyone could see its contents. Several gasps echoed in the room, Mrs Potts whimpered, Mr Potts’ eyes widened in disbelief, “Jesus.” Cathy stared at the purple box, lips parted in astonishment, fear in her eyes, “Who would do such a thing?”
The little purple box, soft lilac with lavender flowers, held in Mr Wylde’s old wrinkly hand, that was supposed to contain the coveted Bingo prize, held it not. Instead, inside –
Inside – was a little ceramic teacup, chipped, old and stained brown.
The retirees stared at the ugly teacup in horror, scandalised. Somebody had stolen the Bingo prize! Somebody had stolen it and replaced it with this old teacup!
A few of the retirees sputtered in indignation, their great prize, their fabled treasure, their magnificent bounty reduced to an old teacup!
The gall – the – the audacity – the – nerve!
Mr Wylde stared at the teacup, righteous anger brewing in his eyes, “A teacup! Our prize has been stolen! Somebody – somebody here has stolen the prize!” Wylde shattered the offending teacup on the floor.
Smash!
“We must fix this!” his gravely voice boomed, “Comrades! We have been deceived! We have been cheated!” Mr Wylde was getting immensely animated; he had started whirling his walking stick around wildly. “The thief must be found!”
Whoop whoop whoop whoop, went the stick.
“We must rally ourselves and punish this bandit!” several retirees had gained Mr Wylde’s fire in their eyes, they nodded along “We shall conduct a hunt! We shall find this scoundrel and tell him what it means to steal from us! We shall hang draw and quarter him!” boomed Mr Wylde.
Whoop whoop whoop whoop, went the stick.
“JUSTICE SHALL BE SERVED! Are you with me!? The prize shall return, the darkness shall end and we shall triumph!”
Whoop whoop whoop whoop, went the stick.
“The treasure shall be found! This blasphemy shall be avenged! For Bingo!!” thundered Mr Wylde.
“FOR BINGO!!” bellowed all the retirees, aflame with the just spirit of passion and bloodlust. A few dentures escaped their prisons and prrfted out, smacking other retirees.
The cold-hearted, incorrigible, unscrupulous thief would be found, he would be punished and the mystery would be solved! The mystery of the missing Bingo prize, the greatest mystery of the 21st century!
Having uttered their war cry sealing the thief’s horrible fate and having already sacrificed dentures to their cause all the retirees looked to Mr Wylde for direction.
Whoop! Went Mr Wylde’s stick, he pointed to the door. “Everybody must line up, one of us is the thief, therefore all rooms shall be checked! Move in groups of three, search everywhere!”
And so the Hunt began. All the retirees grouped up. The bald heads and flowery dresses, so highly motivated, moved with legendary speed. Off the vengeful retirees went, at the pace of snails, to bring back their priceless treasure.
The craven dread-bolted wagtail bandit was in trouble indeed.
The retirees worked went through all the rooms in the colony, they put in painstaking, backbreaking effort. They sifted through each room with careful precision, rallied on by Mr Wylde and his legendary walking stick.
They looked below pillows, they looked behind curtains, they looked below the covers, they looked in drawers, they looked in cupboards, they looked inside glasses, they looked behind cupboards, they looked inside the bathrooms. Many a retiree lay vanquished by their gallant efforts to look below the beds. They were losing men, still they looked on! Indeed, they searched everywhere!
Numerous riches where unearthed, old dentures, forgotten rubber duckies, sacks of duck crumbs, empty tubes of denture cream, mothballs, moth bitten floral curtains and toupees of legend. Thorough as their quest was, it failed to yield their invaluable treasure – the Bingo prize.
“What are we going to do now?” panted Cathy, “We have searched everywhere to no avail.” Her voice was mournful and her pruney face showed nothing but misery. It was a face of one who had lost all hope in life.
“Fear not my soldiers, we shall persevere!” Mr Wylde held his walking stick aloft, ready to spin the second required, “we shall never stop fighting! The war against tyranny shall never be forgotten, we shall deal with this catastrophe, this calamity the only way it can be dealt with!”
Mr Wylde paused for dramatic effect.
Pause.
“Remember! One of us is the thief.” My Wylde’s eyes traced everyone in the room, “We shall find the traitor by conducting interrogations. Our invaluable jewel must be returned!”
A murmur rose up in the room, every retiree eyed the other with suspicion. Anyone could be the blasphemous traitor.
“We shall – “
“WAIT!!” shouted Mr Potts, a miracle had awoken him from his eternal slumber, “Wait! There is one place we have forgotten to check!”
Mrs Potts looked at her husband as if he was splattered cuckoo bananas, “There is no such place, dear, are you sure you are alright? Do you need to sit down? Some water?” she pointed vaguely at some vague thing, her soft, wavery voice held confused concern.
Mr Potts held up a finger, looking triumphant, his eyes bulged, “We forgot to check Lilith’s room!”
Cathy stared at the formerly drowsy man in astonishment, “So we did! But why would it be there?”
“Think,” said Mr Potts – wishing for a pipe to puff on – “We checked everyone’s room, and did not find our prize. Therefore, the thief must have moved it!”
All the retirees stared at Mr Potts in amazement, “What are we waiting for then?” asked Mrs Potts, excited. All the retirees shuffled towards Lilith’s room, excited.
Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeett!
Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeett!
Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeett!
Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeett!
Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeett!
Went hearing aids.
Our steadfast adventures emerged to the final stop of their glorious quest on righteous justice – Ms Lilith’s room.
Mr Potts’ stroke of genius was not wrong, there nestled like a jewelled egg, in a black box, on the bed was the fabled prize.
Cathy reached out, awe and wonderment on her face, she picked up the box gently, and flicked it open.
Inside-
Inside on the cover it was written –
The great, righteous, justice-seeking, passion-inflaming, bingo-defending, legendary stick wielding, bespectacled old man was the bandit who had stolen the priceless treasure.
Several retirees’ eyes popped out of their sockets and rolled down the floor, several others fainted.
They were very upset, I assure you, very, very upset. More furious than cat whose tail had been stepped on. More livid than denture-less people were when they were served Bruschetta.
Their great fabled leader born of myth and legend had betrayed them! He was the thief! It was scandal! It was a calamity! It was a catastrophe! It was a disaster!
Mr Wylde was given no chance to justify his actions. The retribution was swift and glorious. His pathetic pleading and begging and blubbering was to no avail.
It was Bingo. There was no mercy.
Mr Wylde was thrown out of PDRHC, and was blacklisted from every certified Bingo room, he was stripped of his denture cream and walking stick, and was struck from the records of the colony. A traitor’s name is never remembered, he is lost to time, never to return.
After the retirees had dispatched Mr Wylde, and had gotten over their heartbreak (exactly two weeks and four days, three hours and twenty-two minutes later), they rejoiced for their fabled treasure, priceless jewel, magnificent prize, one-of-a-kind crown jewel had returned! It was time for celebration!
They pulled the invaluable prize out of the box with reverent gentleness, like a mother with her newborn kitten, and placed it on the pedestal in the Bingo Hall. Therefore, in the Bingo Hall, on the golden pedestal sat a little white mug with –
– written on it.
The retirees were immensely happy.
Immensely happy.
Like a cat who had caught a canary.
They were seriously very, very, very, very happy.
Why wouldn’t they be?
Their glorious, magnificent, prize had returned!
All was right with the world!
Ms Lilith is still lying on the podium.
There is a thin layer of dust on her now.
Points:
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125,024 Literary Works • 672,762 Reviews
A great continuation of the last chapter, and a very ominous ending!
Mr Wyld being the theif responsible for everything is actually a funny twist, someone who talks a big game and is quick to point fingers isn't to be trusted immediately. And the fact Mr Potts wakes up just to help when everyone was ready to quit was hilarious.
This entire plot is a farce in the best ways yet it still has a true mystery surrounding it. The tone of absurdist description of the actions of the old folks adds so much to the humorous tone. To the old people and the narrator this missing jewel is the world, the center of all importance. You answered questions yet a few still remained. Why were the hearing aids acting up? Why did nobody bother moving Ms Liliths body at all?
If I had my suspicions I believe the retirees aren't so innocent at all. The narrator refers to them as "Like a cat who had caught a canary." which sounds a bit predatory. Or maybe I'm reading too much into it? haha
Thanks for the review!! And as for your suspicions and unanswered questions .... I think we'll never know...
Hi Khushi! This is Zenith with a short review.
I love everything about this story. Most of all, I love the unlikely narrator ( but you can tell as much from my pfp). This story is so well written and the humor devices so well executed that if I had come across this in a children's book, I would have believed it to be by some great writer. First things first, I must highlight all that I liked best.
I love that you have consistently preserved the cat's inner voice throughout the narrative.
I cannot put enough emphasis on how funny this is!
I love it when the exact number of days and hours are mentioned in stories like these.
This is peak humour.
Now some sentences need some minor grammar re-adjustments. For ex, in the sentence below, you can find what I have altered in bold. You can fix such errors with another re-read.
Now in certain parts of the story, some phrases are kinda repeated. For ex,
You can try using alternate phrasing.
Apart from these, I don't really have any valuable suggestions. Lastly, I have some thoughts and questions.
1) Was Mr. Wylde really guilty? (I love detective stories and hence why it's difficult for me to believe someone committed a crime until they openly confess to the act and explain why they did it in the first place. This was missing from the story.)
2) You could add a little depth to Mr. Wylde's character. Perhaps he didn't steal the prize out of greed but wanted attention. The story is set in an old age home. Perhaps by hiding the cup and then finding it later, he wanted to be acknowledged by all. He was caught in the end, but perhaps he was forgiven by his peers when they realized how lonely he was after being abandoned by his family. (Your story is great as of now, but if you want to add some heart to it then you may consider this.
3) Now that the prize is found and the previous winner deceased and forgotten, her soul haunting the podium for all eternity, will the Bingo games be re-initiated in search of another prospective champion?
I suppose that's about all. I look forward to reading more of your wonderful stories.
Thanks for the review Zenith! And for all the corrections, I'll certainly implement them the second I get the chance.