'Brring Brring' said the Alarm clock.
Mrs Noodie, the comely female detective prised open her eyes and turned upon her dusty pillow; she could read between the lines, it was time to get up. It was Tuesday as Mrs Noodie pulled herself up out of the extra-large dog basket she slept in, took off her pyjamas and paced around her bedroom waiting for her thoughts to come.
They were very reticent.
The only sort of thought that arrived was 'do I need a wee?' Mrs Noodie punched that thought back to Smutsville were it belonged, and after a few more fruitless moments realised that her thoughts probably needed an enticing cup of caffeine before they would be of any use to her.
And so Mrs Noodie's legs started walking one by one downstairs towards the kitchen. Suddenly, Mrs Noodie's heart started pounding like a pound cake. This is why: A small white and red card lay on the doormat.
'I know that card', thought Mrs Noodie's mind. 'And I recognise that handwriting' chipped in Mrs Noodie's memory. "I detect inconvenience" said Mrs Noodie quite loudly, forgetting that it was this kind of talking-aloud-when-no-one-can-hear-you behaviour that led to Mistress Niceface calling her mental. Mrs Noodie bent down and picked up the card, ignoring the ticked box and going straight for the message. "We tried to deliver a parcel but you were out, please come and collect it after ..:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" />three pm from our inconveniently far away depot, lots of love Mr Postman".
Mrs Noodie felt livid about this, really livid. It was a massive walk to the depot, and that parcel had contained the only shoes she owned. And how dare Mr Postman write lots of love? They had only been on one date and she had NOT enjoyed herself at all; he had only talked about rectangular things and smelt of envelopes. 'Oh well, take it as a compliment' thought Mrs Noodie positively and with this she looked up into the hall mirror to admire her pretty reflection.
"Oh my shitting Jesus!" blasphemed Mrs Noodie forgetting that she rarely swore, "Who the hell has done this?" Mrs Noodie's face was about thirty years older than it had been yesterday, and it was grey, dry, and covered with millions of deep-set lines. Mrs Noodie looked like a mouldy globe and she knew it.
"I need to detect who is at the bottom of this" Noodie screamed as she ran to put on her mac and started putting two and two together as quickly as she could.
Mrs Noodie's precise and intelligent thinking went a little bit like this:
"Right, first a list of people that wish me harm… Lord Talleram, Mr Sniffly Tickles, Mr Tiptree Jam and Cousin Harry. Okay, which of these four rogues has a key to my house and know where my bedroom is? Answer? All four."
'Oh dear, am I a hussy?' mused Mrs Noodie tangentially.
"Okay, all four, but Cousin Harry lacks the opposable thumbs to use the door key due to his being a Jack Russell. Suspect eliminated."
"Next, Mr Tiptree Jam, although Mr Jam may have the best motive for ageing me thirty years into the future, his means are limited due to the fact that he is currently under arrest thanks to my exposing him as being Satan last week. Or should that be currant-ly under arrest?" Mrs Noodie punned even at this time of fraught investigation.
"So it is down to either Lord Talleram or Mr Sniffly Tickles. They both have their motives; Talleram for suspecting me of lesbionic practices with his fiancée Mistress Niceface, and Mr Sniffly Tickles for that cold November night last year when I informed him his catch phrase was boring."
"Brring Brring" said Mrs Noodie's immobile telephone.
"Hello" Said our vixen into the receiver "who is it please?"
"You can't resist the sniffles, you can't resist the tickles" a spooky voice replied.
"Mr Tickles! I thought I told you to get a new catchphrase" said Mrs Noodie, before she even realised that she had been mean-AGAIN.
"I'm coming round" said Mr Sniffly Tickles.
"Beeeeeeeep" said the phone.
Now Mrs Noodie was worried. After already ageing her thirty years, what would her arch nemesis Tickles do to her now? She waited for about twenty-five minutes for Mr Sniffly Tickles to arrive, just sitting on the bottom stair, looking at the door.
'Knock Knock' said the doorbell disparagingly when the tense climax and Mr Sniffly Tickles arrived simultaneously.
"Right" started Mrs Noodie, letting the handsomely blonde gent in "you've got some explaining to do".
"Actually Mrs Noodie, you have got some apologising to do!" retorted Tickles reaching a sly hand for Noodie's armpit. "You have been falsely accusing me all afternoon…your neighbours heard you through the walls and texted me".
"Damn thinking out loud" thought Mrs Noodie aloud without realising. Hang on a minute, "afternoon?" she questioned? "I've not even had breakfast yet".
"That's because you have overslept you silly bint, and in your face mask from the looks of things"
Mrs Noodie, detective extraordinaire checked in the mirror and now, of course it was clear…she had slept in her facemask…that was why her face was so wrinkly and her pillow so dusty. "I am sorry, I seem to have been a bit of a fool" thought Mrs Noodie in her head. She did not apologise aloud because no one likes doing that.
"But what about my alarm?" quizzed Noodie
"That was actually your telephone, you can tell by the 'Brring' sound it makes. Your alarm plays 'Respect' by Aretha Franklin" replied the omniscient Mr Sniffly Tickles smugly.
"And I suppose that is why I missed the post" snapped Mrs Noodie to show that she could know things as well.
"That's right" said Tickles. "And it was me ringing that woke you up, I wanted to see if you wanted to stop being my arch nemesis and start being my friend again. Well, do you?"
Mrs Noodie kept Mr Sniffly Tickles waiting while she pondered the pros and cons of being friends again. "Alright" she relented, "as long as you change that boring theme tune of yours!" And they both laughed for ages while Mrs Noodie fixed them a tasty lasagne.