Monday, September 30, 2002
The well-to-do upperclassmen (and the two women) stood in the close quarters of the foyer. The mansion was huge, but the foyer was small. Which was why they were demanded to gather here by the detective.

“I say, this is most uncalled for,” said Lord Diamondswatter, in his best English accent. And he was from England, you know it was good. “Tell me why we must be subjected to this humiliation!”

“I agree, Lord Pissweather,” said Lady Diamondswatter, known by Betty to her close friends, which was no one. “How ungentlemanly of you to force us all to stand in the foyer of such a beautiful mansion.”

“I’m afraid it’s utmost necessary,” said Lord Pissweather, fingering his Chinese finger trap, his peculiar detectively affectation. “If I were to allow us to meet in larger quarters, it is all but certain the mysterious Fat Phantom would escape upon my revealing him.”

“I say!” said fat Lord Eatswallow. “Then you know the identity of the Fat Phantom, Lord Pissweather?”

“I do,” said the detective. “Damn! This Chinese finger trap… Lady Fascist, could you help me here…?”

Attractive Lady Fascist did as bade, which is totally cool. His fingers again freed, Lord Pissweather gestured with the middle one toward the roof.

“I say!” exclaimed quiet Lord Saidlittle, who rarely spoke.

“Up there,” continued Lord Pissweather, “is where we first encountered the first body. No, wait… we originally encountered the first body. Yes. That’s better.”

“Yes,” said Lord Diamondswatter, “Lord Freshcorpse was found stabbed in the back with a butter knife.”

“True,” said Lord Pissweather, straightening his purple velvet cloak, which was manly on him but obviously gay on someone else less manly. “But if you’ll recall, the butter knife appeared not to break the skin at all. Which suggested to me Lord Freshcorpse had in truth been poisoned.”

“No shit!” exclaimed Lord Eatswallow. “Poisoned by the Fat Phantom?”

“The one and same, or another one,” said Lord Pissweather. “The second body was Lady Newkilled. Do you remember?”

“I must admit I had forgotten,” said Lord Saidlittle, to which Lady Diamondswatter promptly agreed.

“Well, it happened. And this is where we found our most important clues,” said Lord Pissweather, pausing for dramatic effect and to again remove his fingers from the Chinese finger trap. “Damn! Anyway… this is where we found the plate of butter cookies defiled and the heavy foot prints in the carpet, obviously created by a very fat, fat person. No offense, Lord Eatswallow.”

“None taken,” said the chunky lord. “So… do you suggest we’re looking for a fat person, like myself.”

“Funny you should say that,” said Lord Pissweather, and all laughed. “Because I am about to reveal the murderer… and he (or possibly she, but let’s just say he) is in this room right now!”

For more of this great story, buy Albert Daddyton’s novel
Murder in the Foyer: A Lord Pissweather Mystery Gorzilla
If you needed an elite group to travel deep into the jungles of Vietnam to track down and capture a mysterious gorilla-thing with swords for arms and the head of a great white shark, these were your men. And luckily for billionaire collector R. Hyram Mozzle, this is exactly what he hired them for.

Gullible Travels
I was headed for the north of Wales when an easterly wind and a sale on box wine blew me off course, and I awoke in a roadside motel in a strange city by a beautiful bay.

1997: The Conquest of Saturn Soil
“Oh? The ship must be compensating for its loss in capsule pressure by increasing section in the back part,” Mike Harder said scientifically.

Dr. Niceguy and Mr. Dribbles
“Is Dr. Niceguy ill, or acting in such a strange manner as to suggest a physiological split personality brought on by the horrible side-effects of an experimental elixir designed to stave off the sniffles?” Butterbaum queried.