The Case of The Missing Hamster: Part Five

The Fifth Bit:  Where The Dame Does the Skinny…. which isn’t a euphemism by the way  Though an interesting visual image.

 

 

I poured Clare a fresh coffee while she talked me through the problem.  I listened.  It’s what I do.

“Things started going strange a few days ago.  The Hamster kept disappearing.  I’d lock him in his cage at night.  He had fruit, nuts, water and a little wheel.  Always running around that bloody wheel.  I’ve oiled it a dozen times, but it still sounds like nails down a blackboard when you’re trying to sleep.  Still.  The Kids love him.  Anyway, I’d get up the next morning and check on him and he’d be gone.  Little bugger keeps me awake all night and then buggers off.  I’d tear the house apart for the entire day and then the little bastard would turn up running around his little wheel.  And the cage would still be locked.  Now that’s impossible.  I didn’t want the kids getting him out on their own, so I bought one of those combination suitcase locks.  It’s never been opened.  I can’t remember the combination.  I hoover his sawdust out.  Pour new in.  He gets food and water through little containers on the side.  He really can’t get out.  But the little bugger does.  Then he’s back in.  And today it’s become worse.  He’s vanished and well… you saw that the toaster went up in smoke.  My hair dryer burst into flames.  My curling tongs set fire to the carpet in the bedroom, even my vi….. even some other things have caught on fire.  All electrically powered.  Or battery powered.  I’ve even unplugged things, but they still go poof.  And some I may never use again.  Probably.  For a while.”

I have to admit I thought it sweet.  She didn’t even blush at the near mention of her vibrator.  Most Dames do.  Hell, her husband was away manoeuvring himself for months at a time.  She had to get lonely.  Just her, on her own, with two kids sleeping and a Hamster Marathon in the kitchen.  Still that was something we could discuss when we found the hamster and sorted out the pyromaniac.

“So can you help?  Can you really help Mr Faustus, because something is very wrong and I need it fixing.”  She rose to her full five foot something.   “I need it fixing soon.  The Children will be home by five and the Women’s Institute are coming around for cheese and wine at seven so if you can help, pull your fucking finger out and get on with it.”

Damn.

I love it when a forceful Posh Dame talks dirty.

 

 

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