“The Hairy Plotter
and the
Half-Blurred Prints”
The End of the latest Hairy Plotter micronovel by
Uncle Throckmorton “Tiny” Doolittle
PART THREE – THE END
The Flea squinched up his face and asked, “Do you have a thesaurus?”
“Good Heavens, no!” said Geordie. “A full-grrrown thesaurrrus eats up to two-hundrrred pounds of meat a day!”
“That’s a theropod you’re thinking about…” whispered Emma the English Shepherd. “A thesaurus is a book of synonyms.”
“Och!” said Geordie. “We do!”
Moments later, the trusty trio of truebloods were in the Library, looking in a thesaurus. It didn’t help. They tried an unabridged dictionary…but got tired before they figured anything else out. They tried to find an synonym finder but couldn’t find it in the card catalog and they didn’t know a synonym for ‘synonym.’ They tried ‘antonym.’
Geordie asked, “Isn’t Antonym the Mommie figurrre to Dorrrothy in ‘Wizarrrd of Oz?”
“No!” said Robert E. and Emma.
“When is the next all-pup gathering of the students?” asked Robert E.
“One hourrr from now the pups will line up in rrrows of six…”
“Hexastichally…” said The Flea.
“…at the six-columned porch…”
“The hexastyle porch…”
“…forrr the Headmasterrr’s mid-day rrreporrrt,” Geordie finished saying. “We must know what kind of spell shall be cast, so we can warrrn the puppyupils at that assembly!”
“Phisohex is a chemical compound…” The Canine Detective said, “…maybe that’s a clue. Why didn’t the pup-etrator use something simple like a crayon or a tube of jowl-stick to write the message? [Editor’s note: jowl-stick is lipstick for girl puppies.] Maybe the fact that the message was written in a chemical compound is a clue!”
“You think the prrrankster is leaving us a clue?”
“A clue? I do! Don’t you?”
“Miss Emma…get the lesson plans for this entirrre week in Chemistrrry class!” The Headmaster barked. “Meet us at the hexastyle porrrch! it’s almost assembly time.”
“Arf!” said the lovely English Shepherdess as she raced off to the Headmaster’s Office.
The Scottie and the...uh…well…mutt ran to the outer porch of the Main Doghouse. They arrived and sat on their rumps awaiting the Chemistry Faculdog’s lesson plans.
In mere moments Miss Emma scampered up to the Headmaster with the lesson plans in her mouth.
“What’s being taught this week?” barked the Fleameister.”
Geordie put the paper on the floor and ran down the list…well…uh…he stood stock still and read rapidly down the list.
“An acid, liquid parrraffin, ammmoniac compounds, liquid ketone, crystaline antibiotic, polymerrrs of six molecules, enzymes, methyl butyl ketone, monosaccharrrides, alkyl rrradicals and isometrrric hydrrrocarrrbons…all in one week!”
“Is any of that translated in plain English?” asked Robert E.
“Certainly,” said Miss Emma, reading over Geordie’s paw. That’s…Hexic acid, hexanerous paraffin, hexamines, cyclohexanone, cyclohexamide, hexames, hexokinase, hexone, hexose, hexyls and hexadecane!”
“I know what kind of spell is to be cast…” send the Canine Detective, “…and I’m about to burst a blood vessel thinking of that many chemical terms!”
“You’re about to have a rhexis?” asked Miss Emma.
“What’s the spell…” Geordie said desperately as the bell was tolled for assembly. “I’ve got to warrrn the puppies! Spell it out for me!”
“H…E…X,” said Robert E. “It’s a hex!”
“Of courrrse…” drooled the Scottie. “A hex! Now why didn’t I rrrememberrr that kind of spell! A hex! That’s easy to brrreak!”
“What do the puppies have to do to break a hex?” Robert E. asked, frantically. Georgie just winked.
The puppies assembled and the Headmaster announced: “Some puppy wants to cast a hex on the school. Don’t worrry. When you go to bed tonight, just turrrn arrround thrrree times and put yourrr shoes by yourrr bedside in backwarrrds order, left on the rrright, rrright on the left! It’s easy!”
“Or…if it’s daylight…” added Emma, “Just put your shoes on the wrong foot for the rest of the day. You’re dismissed.”
The puppies happily scampered away to lunch in the Great Hall. After they had gone, Robert E. spotted some Polaroid photographs lying on the sidewalk. He ran to them and looked at them with his official Robert E. Flea ™ Mystical Mouth-Held Magnifying Glass © (sold at better dog toy stores everywhere), which he had carried tucked behind his floppy ear the entire time.
“Here’s a mystery!” he called out.
“Yes,” said Miss Emma. “Who the heck still owns a Polaroid?”
“Look!” said Geordie, looking. “They brrrazenly took photos of themselves wrrriting on the mirrrorrr so they could brrrag about it laterrr! Just an innocent prrrank!”
“Perhaps,” said The Flea, “but they couldn’t hold the camera steady. These prints are only about half-way in focus!”
“That probably why they threw them down,” suggested miss Emma, “at an assembly where all students were present...”
“Knowing we couldn’t trace the half-blurred prints to any specific puppyupil,” added Robert E.
“The prints are half-blurred, but we can tell by theirrr rrred-hemmed rrrobes that the pups arrre Fourth Yearrrs in the Indian’s House. It looks like that trrrouble-loving trrrio Verrrn, Errrn and Grrriff!”
“We’re just about to a point where we can catch the little fun-loving boogers!” declared the Fleameister. “We’ll get them the very next time!”
“I’m going to rrrelax by drrinking a cool glass of bacon grrrease and rrreading the Old Testament in the side-by-side trrranslations compiled by Orrrigen in the 3rd Centurrry,” said Geordie with a sigh. “It has the Hebrrrew, Grrreek and alterrrnative Grreek verrrsions by Aquilla, Symmachus, the Septuagint and Theodotion,” he added.
“What on earth is that called?” asked Robert E. as he turned to depart.
“Why…it’s the Hexapla!”
THE FATEFUL END
Keep coming back to this website…soon the epic of practical puppy pranks will crash to a climactic close in…”The Hairy Plotter and the Depthy Hollows!”
