Location shot: Radiant rays of light artistically accentuate the towering towers of McMeredith Manor. The most arbitrary architecture and vast but vague, lavish landscape give the reader little clue as to the exact time and place. Verily, though, our protagonists are so wonderfully wealthy and utterly upper class that their tale truly transcends such common concepts.
Lounging in her lovely lounge, Mysteria Magnolia Mercedes McMeredith was as bored as a raver at a Lana del Rey concert. Her remarkably rich husband, Bartholomew Gilbért, was away on business — as he had been since their wedding day, — and there was absolutely nothing to do at all other than enjoy the exquisiteness of a life of luxury.
Mysteria sighed sorrowfully. Once, she had cheerfully chosen this exorbitant existance, but now — from time to time, in quiet moments of reflection — she wondered whether it had been a worrisome waste of her considerable congnitive competence. As a matter of fact, Mysteria rather relished being utterly underestimated. The terrible trouble was that this, naturally, required her to actually do something her prosperous peers could judge. To that effect, she’d already tried her hands at painting pulchritudinous portraits and designing delicate diamond jewellery, excelling as expected but tiring of both activities far too quickly.
Now she was cautiously contemplating mastering the adventurous art of archery when one of the three attentive and attractive maids that looked after McMeredith Manor elegantly entered. She was Chastity Charmington, the obviously older sister of serene Serenity and pubescent Purity. One quick glance at Chastity’s fantastically fair face told Mysteria that something terribly terrifying must have occured.
“Madame Mysteria!” the maid cried, frantically fumbling with her appropriate apron. “You won’t believe what Serenity has discovered! Oh, it is so horrible, I honestly hesitate to even bring it to your attention, milady!”
“Do calm down, Chastity,” Mysteria purred. “And do tell from the beginning.”
“Ah, yes, such a sensible suggestion, Madame Mysteria! You see, the traumatizing truth is that your humble husband’s considerable collection of excessively expensive watches is gone!”
With a swift motion, our humble heroine sat up straight. “As in, with the wind?”
Chastity looked positively confused.
“I mean, as in” — Mysteria gasped — “stolen?”
The maid replied with an awkwardly overdone nod that made her remarkably reddish hair bob up and down like a poor person on a pitiful pogo stick.
Mysteriaʼs hand automatically went to her chest in a drastically dramatic gesture beautifully befitting the serious situation. “Oh my!” she exclaimed. “But who could have done such a thievish thing?”
“I’m positive my answer is negative,” Chastity wailed, sounding desperately downbeat. “No stranger could have gotten past the secure security system of this marvelous manor!”
Mysteriaʼs mindful mind began to race like a hibernating horse awakening halfway through the glorious Gold Cup at Ascot. “Whoopsy, I found a mystʼry!” she exclaimed, her brilliantly blue eyes glittering. “My grandmother used to say ‘Those who steal will never feel a love so real!ʼ, and Iʼm going to find out who has expertly embezzled my dear Bartholomew Gilbért’s wonderful watches!”
Location shot: Complicated computers and monstrous monitors line the office space before Mysteriaʼs gorgeous face. These are the dark and daunting depths of McMeredith Manor that none of the premises’ amazingly affluent, vain visitors will ever be granted a glimpse of — and which Mysteria herself has never before aspired to acknowledge.
“Our superbly subtle security cameras must have caught the cunning culprit,” Mysteria explained as she assuredly worked on one of the most complicated computers.
Standing behind her was Serenity Charmington, who had coyly accompanied Mysteria into the magnificent manor’s sepulchral cellar. “Indeed, Madadame Mystysteria,” she stuttered, nervous as a mint-flavored ice cream cone in the midday heat of Australia. “How surprisingly . . . uhm, I mean splendidly smart of you.”
Mysteriaʼs eye-catching eyes were totally transfixed on the monstrous monitors. For what seemed like an excruciating eternity she saw nothing of note, but then a shadowy shape appeared before her. It glided across a corridor with swift speed, as if it knew exactly where exactly it was exactly heading. With her flawless face distorted by disgust, our heroic heroine slid her sliding chair back across the entire room.
For the fantastic figure she had spotted on the screen was wearing an abhorrent abomination of an outfit. There was no shapely shape to discern with experimental edges and confusing cuts in woefully weird places. Mysteria was rudimentally relieved that the images were in black and white. She imagined the ghastly garment to be in shameful shades of ogreish ocher that upon sight would most surely have sent her straight into a comatose state.
Regaining her characteristic composure, she announced agitatedly, “Tis the culprit!”
In the meantime Serenity had managed to become even less serene. “Ittittit apppeapearrrrs ssssso.”
“I shall indeed identify this crooked creature,” Mysteria proclaimed proudly. “Even if that means I must regrettably regard this most ghastly garment with my own eyes!”
Location shot: A gargantuan golden door rises from marvelous marble tiles, shielding extraordinarily valuable valuables. Cerulean candles and ghoulish gargoyles successfully set the sus-penseful scene.
Mysteria struthiously strutted into her probably permenantly absent husband’s vast vault. This was where the most critical crime had been committed. This was where she could feasibly find some productive piece of evidence. Treading thoughtfully in her horrendously high heels, Mysteria expeditiously examined every corner of the vault as if she were a proper professional. It took her exactly 17.236 1/2 seconds to spot the evidence. ’Twas a decidedly deformed, golden glob on the floor. The beautiful-blonde-turned-determined-detective performed the first half of a stunningly executed slutdrop to view the evidence from a closer distance. She studiously studied the particularly peculiar texture of the glob and the regular rectangles pressed into it that granted it an inconclusively curious shape.
“Gasp!” Mysteria exclaimed excitedly. “What could this possibly be? And what in the name of the Father, the Son, and the holy Cher is that perplexing pattern in the golden glob? My, this is most mysterious indeed!”
Location shot: A pompous pool is surrounded by a glorious garden filled with radiant rosebushes, lovely lilypads, and venerable venus fly traps. The reader can most definitely spot majestic mustangs gallopping in the background — and possibly a few flamboyant pheasants prancing in the foreground.
It was after noon, and the afternoon sun was tanning Mysteria’s silky smooth skin. Wearing precious little except for a hint of colorful cloth one might daringly decide to call a bikini, she calmly contemplated the eventful events of the day, including her discovery of the peculiar piece of evidence.
Was it some beautifully bizarre kind of wax? Perhaps the kind used by the three Charmington sisters to send fashionably old-fashioned letters adorned with the magnificent and medieval McMeredith seal — the gobsmackingly glamorous griffin with the characteristically curvaceous claws and the fabulously fiery feathers that humbly hinted at Dolly Parton’s most volumous and voluptuous 80s wigs. Or was it something else entirely, and Mysteria was joyfully jumping to calumniatory conclusions?
At least here, outside by the pompous pool, she could keep an effervescent eye on all the suspects working at McMeredith Manor. There were the Charmington maids, properly preparing the premises for a delightful dinner Mysteria had recently requested be held outside on this desolate day. Then were were the two gardeners, the old Gray Wolf and his young apprentice Justin-Dustin, who were taciturnly tending to the floral flower-beds nearby. Finally, Patricia the patronizing parrot was lazily lounging on a branch beside Maysteria, reciting random Ronan Keating lyrics to no one in particular. Each or all of those complex characters could crystallize as the calculating culprit. And just what kind of ghastly garment they had worn on their heinous heist remained as much a mystery as Justin Bieber’s popularity.
In the face of such an immensely intricate situation, Mysteria felt compelled to sigh theatrically, the back of her right hand slowly and stage-worthily sinking onto her surprisingly sweatless forehead, just as Purity Chamington — the youngest and most certainly not purest of the three maids — appeared next to her lavender sun lounger. Purity was balancing a captivating cocktail on a tiny teal tray, offering it to our humble heroine with a horribly high-pitched, “Heeeere, milady!”
Mysteria took it with a grandiose gesture and purred, “Do say dear Purity, who do you believe the thief to be?”
“Oh I couldn’t possibly tell!” the maid screeched, suddenly busy curling her crimson hair around her dainty fingers. Then she leaned in closer conspiratorially and proceeded to yell into poor Mysteriaʼs ear, “IT’S THE GARDENER!”
As if physically propelled away by the sheer volume and pitch of the aggressive accusation, Mysteria rolled off her sun lounger, smartly spun on the floor, and then affordlessly arose to stand eye-to-eye with the maid. “You don’t say!” she replied readily, feigning utter astonishment. “But why would he — whoever of the two you mean — do something so scurrilous!”
Purity Charmington took a quick step towards her employer, threatening to deliver yet another deafening blow to Mysteriaʼs ethereal eardrums. Only a speedy spin on the spot saved her. “I wouldn’t know, of course! Why would I? Maybe he is joylessly jealous of your wonderful wealth! Or maybe he wants to — could you imagine, milady? — maybe he wants to foolishly frame my charming sisters and me!”
Mysteria profoundly pondered that idea while watching the two gardeners on the other side of the pompous pool. Justin-Dustin’s grotesquely gorgeous and as per usual naked upper body was glittering gloriously in the afteroon sun. It was so devilishly distracting that Mysteria could only just tear her eyes off him to observe Gray Wolf — with his bombastic beard and fortunately fully covered upper body — wildly waving his arms to chase away a determined group of buzzing bees that had cheerfully chosen his thoroughly thin but still strong body as a tantalizing target. The intricate insects, it seemed, weren’t exactly elated about the grumpy gardener rearranging their favourite flowers — even though he was the very man who carefully cared for their beeloved beehive.
“Yes, I presume all that is possibly possible,” Mysteria said to Purity as a theory formed in her shockingly sharp mind. Behind her, Patricia the patronizing parrot emphatically echoed Purity’s earlier accusation: “It’s the gardener!”
Location shot: Shattered showcases and sharp shards of gratuitous glass dominate the vast vault. An eerily illogical but absolutely appropriate chilly gust of wind perpetually blows past those presently present, while outside the gargantuan golden door the ghoulish gargoyles conscientously keep watch.
“Why’ve you brought us here?” Gray Wolf howled. “We got lotsa work ta do, ohooo.”
“Yeah,” Justin-Dustin said, his warm voice masterfully melting everyone’s hearts and magically making them ignore the utter absence of any content in his statement.
Having spent long weeks learning to resist JD’s gorgeousness, Mysteria ignored him and proudly placed her hands on her heavenly hips. “My dear servants. As you are acutely aware, my husband’s wonderful watches have been maliciously misappropriated today.”
All three Charmington sisters gasped as believably as stereotypical students at a third-grade theater production of “Angels in America”, accompanied by grandiose gestures. JD didn’t seem to understand at all, so he let his perfectly shaped pecks bounce up and down to pass the time. Gray Wolf inspected the vault with interest.
“But fear not!” Mysteria went on, pointing a meticulously manicured index finger at the ceiling. “For I have found my calling . . . I mean the culprit. I have found the cunning culprit!”
“Splendidly said, milady!” Serenity quickly commented with a complete lack of serenity. “Such an alluring alliteration!”
“Who is it?” JD asked matter-of-factly, then dropped to the floor to perform push-ups.
Mysteria pointed at the golden glob of evidence next to her feet and announced, “This gave me the crucial clue!”
“What is it?” JD asked in the middle of a powerful push-up.
Our heroic heroine tore her gaze off his beautifully broad back. “Tis wax, you see,” she declared dramatically. “It could be the kind the Charmingtons use for the magnificent and medieval McMeredith seal on letters . . .”
The three sisters squeaked in horrific harmony.
“. . . but it isn’t!”
“What is it then?” JD duly wanted to know.
“When I checked the footage from our superbly subtle security cameras, I saw a fantastic figure wearing a truly ghastly garment the likes of which I had — fortunately — never seen before.” She shuddered at the macabre memory. “Only just outside, by the pompous pool with the floral flowerbeds, did it occur to me: The ghastly garment, that tremendously traumatizing fashion fauxpaus, was nothing but a beekeeper’s suit! The kind that I assume our thorough thief uses when tending to the beeloved bees in my glorious garden! Some beeswax must have dripped from it and landed on the floor in the middle of your heinous heist. Now, the thief cannot be JD, because no beekeeper’s suit in the world would fit that loosely over his colossal pectorals!”
The grim gardener with the bombastic beard, Gray Wolf, did not hesitate to hurry for the gargantuan golden door, howling horribly in the process. But JD, with his manly muscles and rapid reflexes, had him pinned down to the ground in a narrative nanosecond.
“You? But why?” Purity Charmington wailed as loudly as a helicopter landing in your bedroom.
“I’m obviously old,” the gardener howled, glaringly glaring at JD, “but I’m barely blind. With that hypnotic hercules around, I’d have been frantically fired the very moment he didn’t need my terrific teachings anymore. I at least wanted to leave a rather rich Wolf, not a poor poodle.”
“Is that true?” JD inquired, his bambi eyes eying Mysteria.
“I mean, it isn’t woefully wrong . . . but that’s not what we’re here for, because this most mysterious mystery is not suitably solved quite yet! Those regular rectangular shapes pressed into the golden beeswax on the floor, I can explicitly explain those, too. When Gray Wolf expertly embezzled the wonderful watches, one of them fell out of his thievish fingers and right onto the golden glob of beeswax.”
“But where’s the missing watch now?” JD asked, performing powerful push-ups on Gray Wolf’s back.
“Someone saw it when they dutifully discovered the crime scene,” Mysteria told the others triumphantly. “Someone who didn’t consider returning it to its rightful owner and who had two equally evil co-conspirators!”
“Oh my! Who could that be!” Chastity Charmington cried.
Mysteria regally rolled her eyes at such a pitiful performance of ignorant innocence. “It’s you and your nerve-wreckingly nervous sisters. I’m afraid I’ll have to frantically fire not only Gray Wolf, but also all of you.”
“You cunning cunt!” Serenity bellowed. “We should be the ladies of the manor, not you!” Purity shrieked, “Our family comes from noble nobility, you merely married into it!”
Mysteria elected to ignore the fiercely fuming and not-so charming sisters. “Whoopsy!” she exclaimed excitedly. “I solved a myst’ry!”
“Wait, what about me?” JD inquired from gardener Gray Wolf’s back. “The only thing I’ve ever stolen is hearts.”
Mysteria gleefully glanced at him. “I’m positively positive you’ve learned all you need to know to become my main gardener. And perhaps,” she added with a whimsical wink, “my casual confidante.”
Mysteria’s curious cases continue with… “Mysteria’s Mysterious Mystery of the Dazzling Dragon”!
