PREVIOUSLY ON BOOKSHELF Q. BATTLER AND THE MEANING OF LIFE…
BQB dies, is told he needs to seek the meaning of life, and returns to the land of the living.
PART 6 – BQB wakes up in the hospital. Dr. Goetleib lost the bet.
PART 7 – Two characters apologize for their tomfoolery.
PART 8 – BQB thinks about calling on Joel LL Torrow’s pimp hand.
Corn flakes. They weren’t gooey. They weren’t fruity. They weren’t warm. They just sat there like a boring pile of mush, a grim reminder of what my life had become.
Three days had passed since the “lightning strike.” I sat in my kitchen, propped up on my butt donut, eating an unremarkable breakfast. I was too scared to even look at another toaster pastry.
From the stairwell, I heard some dog barks, followed by two distinctly British voices.
“Step lively, canine!” one of the voices yelled. “The game is afoot!”
“Holmes, I don’t believe that Mr. Bookshelf wishes to be disturbed,” the other voice said. “It is my opinion as a professional physician that he needs to rest.”
“Nonsense, Watson!” the first voice said. “Trying times such as these are when our assistance is needed the most!”
I ate a spoonful of corn flakes and watched as my pet, the aptly named Bookshelf Q. Battle Dog, trotted into the kitchen. Riding on his back were none other than notorious super sleuth Sherlock Holmes and his colleague, the wise and knowledgeable Dr. John Watson. (Tiny versions of their literary selves, obviously).
Among his many duties, Bookshelf Q. Battle Dog was the head of Bookshelf Battle Headquarters Security. He was one of those little yippy purse dogs, so he was more than qualified to bark his head off whenever a visitor came a-calling.
He jumped up onto the chair next to me, dropped his passengers off onto the table, then took a nap on the chair.
“Bookshelf Q. Battler!” Holmes said. “How are you man?”
“Oh,” I said. “For a guy who recently launched a lightning bolt out of my nether regions, I can’t complain.”
Watson stroked his chin and stared at me.
“Signs of lethargy,” the good doctor said. “Depression. An intense pallor of ennui. I stand corrected, Holmes. You were right. The caretaker of our bookshelf requires assistance posthaste.”
“Elementary, my dear Watson,” Sherlock said. “Elementary.”
Holmes wore a cloak and one of those odd hats, you know, the ones that look like two baseball caps sewn together back to back. Watson had a handlebar mustache, a bowler hat, and wore a tweed jacket with patches on the elbows.
“You know guys,” I said. “I get that I’m saddled with the burden of taking care of a bunch of small book characters for the rest of my life, but I’d really appreciate it if you all would make an effort to not get in my face before I’ve had my morning coffee.”
Holmes puffed on a pipe, blew a few smoke rings, then raised a triumphant finger in the air.
“Watson!”
“Yes Holmes?”
“We’ve defeated Professor Moriarty, haven’t we?” the world’s greatest detective asked.
“Indeed, Holmes.”
“Colonel Moran?” Holmes asked.
“Most assuredly.”
“We solved the case of the Hound of the Baskervilles?”
“A most troublesome caper,” Watson replied. “But we certainly did solve it.”
“How many times have we saved Old Brittania from certain ruin at the hands of various and sundry villainous masterminds?” Holmes asked.
“More times than this old sawbones can count, Holmes,” Watson said.
“And yet, with my powers of deduction, I do postulate that we will now solve the most inscrutable, most diabolical, most grueling case we have heretofore ever encountered!”
“What is it, Holmes?”
Holmes spun around and looked directly up at me through the lens of his magnifying glass.
“The Case of the Missing Bookshelf Caretaker’s Testicles!”
Will Holmes and Watson discover what happened to BQB’s testicles? Return to bookshelfbattle.com for the next installment of this epic tale to find out!
Copyright (C) Bookshelf Q. Battler 2015. All Rights Reserved.
Fun fact – As reported in Variety and other news sources, Sherlock Holmes is so old that he’s in the public domain! That means he can be used anywhere and I’m sure Sir Arthur Conan Doyle would be doing backflips in his grave if he were to ever learn about his appearance on this blog.
Even so, while Holmes and Watson may belong to the ages now, we’ll never forget that he is Sir Arthur’s legendary creation.
Oh, dear, Mr. BQB. You are playing to at least one audience member for whom Holmes is the Ideal Man. This is difficult territory for a reader. But then, one is a contralto of operatic inclinations, red-haired, and American.
A warm bath, I am told, can cause retracted testicles to reappear.
I have to refer you to Holmes’ earlier statement that he’s referring to the spiritual variety.
Then since the spiritual chakras (Ajna and Sahasrara) are located between the brows and at the crown of the skull, perhaps the solution is to soak one’s head…?
Could be. Sherlock will hopefully enlighten us tomorrow.
[…] PART 9 – Holmes offers to solve “The Case of the Missing Bookshelf Caretaker’s Testicles” […]
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[…] PART 9 – The Game is Afoot! […]
[…] Part 9 – The Game is Afoot! – Diminutive versions of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson come to BQB’s aid, even though theirhelp is not wanted (a fact BQB expresses vigorously.) […]