"Nancy Murchison and the Case of the Missing Scotch" (a birthday poem)
Presenting the conclusion to this poem in honor of missmurchison's birthday today:
‘Twas early October, and Iowa was humming
with news that Miss Murchison’s birthday was coming.
A bash had been planned to honor her birth,
attended by friends from every corner of earth.
Her husband was planning a menu of treats-
a hearty buffet of unpronounceable eats.
For the crucial position of chief booze procurer
Keswindhover had been drafted and arrived in a furor.
Said Kes, “We’ll need whiskey and beer of all sorts,
and hearty red wine we can drink by the quarts.
Just point me the way to the discount liquor store,
and I’ll bring back enough to put us all on the floor.”
With this laudable goal and Rev. Dorothy as chauffeur,
Kes was back in a flash, crowing “You see, I’m no loafer!
The car’s back seat and boot are filled to the top
with intoxicating beverages, and one case of pop.*
Barring bad magic or curses or disastrous weather,
this will be the best party ever (that doesn’t involve leather)!”
But when the party day dawned, and the gals unpacked their liquor,
they wailed in dismay, for someone else had been quicker.
“Our whiskey’s all gone!” Kes and Dorothy hollered,
so loud that Miss Murchison soon had them collared.
“What mischief is this?” asked Miss M, tone forbidding.
“You lost the booze for my party? You’ve got to be kidding!”
Miss M soon had her chums Kes and Dorothy hopping,
saying, “When the going gets tough, we don’t go shopping!
Put your sleuthing hats on, and let’s quick find some clues,
to figure out what scum-sucker dared steal my booze!
Those cigarette butts might be a link to our thief,
or that dog-racing ticket stub, it’s my belief.”
By dint of much hard work and sharp elbow greasing,
the three lady sleuths found the distance decreasing
between them and their quarry, a leather-clad phantom,
his hair bleached white-blond and his fighting weight bantam.
“To the Murchison-Mobile!” cried Miss M, and “Away!”
as she drove like a madwoman after her prey.
While Kes and Rev. Dorothy held on for dear life,
Miss M sped ‘round curves that were sharp as a knife
(not unlike the thief’s cheekbones, as Dorothy noted,
and Kes quite concurred, asking not to be quoted).
When Miss M’s sporty roadster finally cornered the poacher
of potent potations, he had the nerve to approach her!
He said, “Not bad, luv! You followed my clues,
and here’s your reward: a film with your booze!”
Following his gesture, Miss M saw just beyond
a drive-in movie screen, and her smile became fond.
All the guests for her party, armed with every amenity,
had come to the drive-in, where they were showing “Serenity.”
“Surprise!” said Kes and Dorothy and Mr. M, who’d conspired
to turn Miss M’s birthday into an evening inspired.
“Thanks to our friend, here, and his knack for Scotch-snatching,
we were able to get you here, and without you catching
on to our game. Weren’t we smart?” “You’re not wrong,”
Miss M smiled as she said, so they’d never guess she’d known all along.
*The inclusion of non-alcoholic soda pop was due to the presence of Miss Murchison’s under-age daughters, of course.
‘Twas early October, and Iowa was humming
with news that Miss Murchison’s birthday was coming.
A bash had been planned to honor her birth,
attended by friends from every corner of earth.
Her husband was planning a menu of treats-
a hearty buffet of unpronounceable eats.
For the crucial position of chief booze procurer
Keswindhover had been drafted and arrived in a furor.
Said Kes, “We’ll need whiskey and beer of all sorts,
and hearty red wine we can drink by the quarts.
Just point me the way to the discount liquor store,
and I’ll bring back enough to put us all on the floor.”
With this laudable goal and Rev. Dorothy as chauffeur,
Kes was back in a flash, crowing “You see, I’m no loafer!
The car’s back seat and boot are filled to the top
with intoxicating beverages, and one case of pop.*
Barring bad magic or curses or disastrous weather,
this will be the best party ever (that doesn’t involve leather)!”
But when the party day dawned, and the gals unpacked their liquor,
they wailed in dismay, for someone else had been quicker.
“Our whiskey’s all gone!” Kes and Dorothy hollered,
so loud that Miss Murchison soon had them collared.
“What mischief is this?” asked Miss M, tone forbidding.
“You lost the booze for my party? You’ve got to be kidding!”
Miss M soon had her chums Kes and Dorothy hopping,
saying, “When the going gets tough, we don’t go shopping!
Put your sleuthing hats on, and let’s quick find some clues,
to figure out what scum-sucker dared steal my booze!
Those cigarette butts might be a link to our thief,
or that dog-racing ticket stub, it’s my belief.”
By dint of much hard work and sharp elbow greasing,
the three lady sleuths found the distance decreasing
between them and their quarry, a leather-clad phantom,
his hair bleached white-blond and his fighting weight bantam.
“To the Murchison-Mobile!” cried Miss M, and “Away!”
as she drove like a madwoman after her prey.
While Kes and Rev. Dorothy held on for dear life,
Miss M sped ‘round curves that were sharp as a knife
(not unlike the thief’s cheekbones, as Dorothy noted,
and Kes quite concurred, asking not to be quoted).
When Miss M’s sporty roadster finally cornered the poacher
of potent potations, he had the nerve to approach her!
He said, “Not bad, luv! You followed my clues,
and here’s your reward: a film with your booze!”
Following his gesture, Miss M saw just beyond
a drive-in movie screen, and her smile became fond.
All the guests for her party, armed with every amenity,
had come to the drive-in, where they were showing “Serenity.”
“Surprise!” said Kes and Dorothy and Mr. M, who’d conspired
to turn Miss M’s birthday into an evening inspired.
“Thanks to our friend, here, and his knack for Scotch-snatching,
we were able to get you here, and without you catching
on to our game. Weren’t we smart?” “You’re not wrong,”
Miss M smiled as she said, so they’d never guess she’d known all along.
*The inclusion of non-alcoholic soda pop was due to the presence of Miss Murchison’s under-age daughters, of course.