A very silly story, part deux

By December 13, 2010Creative writing


Professor Ganbat stood stiff and upright in the heavy snow. His fur coat kept the wind from blasting his face. His fur-lined finger pointed to a hole in the ground.

“That is where we dug up the mammoth.”

Silver knelt in the snow, as she had seen detectives do many times on TV, and touched the cold wetness. It did not inspire her in the way she had thought it would. Her brow furrowed into a tight knot. She stood up. They walked back in the swirling snowy swath of snow to his hut.

“Would you like the name of the company that promised me safe transport of Mabel to the museum?”


“Yes, Mabel my mammoth. We give them all names. Here is their business card.”

“Of course,” said Silver Fir. I’m going to need more Botox if I furrow my brow anymore, thought Silver. She scrunched up her eyes to read the card.

Large Animal Overhaul.

It was clear where this was going. Silver would have to go to Ulaanbatar, the nation’s capital, for more answers. Professor Ganbat was kind enough to let her sit very closely to him on the way back. He said it was to help her warm up after such a cold experience. He even encouraged her to warm up her cheek on his shoulder. Silver had met many kind men before, but this one was very thoughtful. I have met many kind men before, but this one is very thoughtful, she thought.

Large Animal Overhaul worked with the main shipping center in Ulaanbatar. Receipts were brought out for inspection. The kind professor gave Silver a magnifying glass to read the small print.

Large Animal Overhaul not responsibling for condition of animal once she leaves warehouses in destinationed foreign country.

“Do you know the name of the warehouse where your mammoth arrived?” Silver Fir said to the kind professor.

“The English Connection.”

Bingo, thought Silver.

The professor seemed upset to let her leave so quickly.

“Leave I must,” said Silver. “I have places to go, people to meet. Parting is such sweet sorrow, but I may be back . . . tomorrow.” The professor’s eyes widened with joy.

Twenty-four hours later, Silver Fir was in the warehouse unto which was delivered the mammoth. Not only did she recognize her delivery man, Slick Bob, there; she also recognized her husband to be—a Michael Smith, to be precise. His face blanched, like an almond, with its skin peeling off, and its white body showing underneath. Silver always took his breath away.

“Mike, what on earth are you doing here? Why aren’t you at the mansion in Paris?”

To be continued . . .

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