Holy Moly! I've had a call from Christabel-Morag, the new Post Mistress, down at the Post Office.
"Hello, Torquil," said Christabel-Morag. "Sorry to bother you on your washing day, but I've just finished reading all the mail and I've noticed something very odd."
"Hello there Christabel-Morag. It's okay, I've left mother in charge of the twin tub. Tell me about the odd thing," I said. Though I didn't think that Christabel-Morag should be reading all the mail, telling her so might upset her weak bladder.
"Well, Torquil, you see all these postcards have arrived at the sorting office and I'm very confused. There's one for you from Jamaica; one for Woodworm Willie from Rome; one for Cyril Nosecone from Las Vegas; one for Jean at the Woolshop from Sydney Australia; one for Wullie Spanners from Amsterdam; one for the lighthouse mannie from Cardiff; one for the boy who plays music down at the hotel from Peking; one for Murdina the butcher from Brussels; one for Big Maggie Ann from Anchorage, Alaska; one for Daft Uisdean from Legoland; and one from Mombasa for Fiona and her paintings."
My eye was drawn to the smoke belching from the twin tub. I waved furiously at mother, pointing at the wall socket for her to pull the plug. "Oh lovely," I said to Christabel-Morag. "A nice postcard always brightens up the day."
"Oh, but you don't understand, Torquil," said Christabel-Morag, now clearly upset. I heard her fumbling and then she said, "Can you hold the line while I go to the toilet."
Mother smiled a gummy smile and waved back at me through the smoke, so I pulled the plug myself and opened the back door to let out the smoke.
"Sorry for keeping you, Torquil," said Christabel-Morag. "Where was I? Oh yes, the postcards...all these postcards are signed by the same person, The Rev. Brimstone. They all say the same thing. 'Having a lovely time. See you soon, The Rev. Brimstone.'"
I stood in the threshold and fanned my arm in the air to usher the smoke outside. "That's nice of him to send so many cards, then," I said to Christabel-Morag.
"But, Torquil, all these cards were posted the same day, all correctly postmarked last Monday from their country of origin." She paused. "Torquil, I attended Evening Worship on Sunday at 7pm and the Reverend was there in fine voice. So, how could he get to all these places to send postcards on the Monday?"
Suddenly, a smoking twin tub was the least of my worries -- there was a mystery to solve down at the Post Office.
Could anyone with any information pertaining to the Rev. Brimstone’s whereabouts on Monday 24th June, 2013, please leave a comment in the box below?
8 comments:
The Rev Brimstone was with me on Monday. He brought his calculator and his little black notebook over and we were doing a stocktake of all the sinners on the Highland Island, over a nice wee drop of communion wine - Love God
Sorry God, I beg to differ. He was here with me on Monday, starring in the new Dallas series.
- JR Ewing, Jr
Actually, you are both wrong. The Rev Brimstone was here with me on Monday, gathering clapdarnachs from the hill ewes.
Impossible he was here in Tibet, chanting with the monks on Monday - The Dalai Lama
Oh no! How can this be possible...he was over at my studio on Monday advising me on my latest works of a religious theme using the latest line in clapdarnach paints. I was thinking of trying for the Turner Prize. Wullie Spanners has however been somewhat uncomplimentary.
Fiona and her new aromatic paintings
Aye, got ye all flummoxed that one hasne it.....well, as usual it falls tae auld Wul tae figure it oot.
Well I'd locked missel in the garage kahzi wi' ma laptop composter thingy (which is ma usual routine when Daft Uisdean an' auld Tommy Podgournie are practisin' their Tubular Bells and Clog Dancin' routine for the Island Gala) an'I got tae thinkin I'd heard something the likes o' this before....Then it hit me....I'd leaned on the flush handle by mistake....invigorated by the icy blast I remembered.....
A few minutes on David Ike's wabsite an' I had it a'figured oot so I did.
Yer Reverend is really a Reptilian Shape Shifting Alien so he is.
They can zap all over the planet in the blink o'an eye so they can, an'if ye dinnae believe me next time ye see him jist dangle a bug on a string in front o'him an'watch him smack his chops.
Mystery Solved,
Wul.
Oh an'by the way...tae the artist lassie....ma comment wisnae a criticism o'yer artistic wossnames....it was simply a statement o'fact....clapdarnach paints is a load o'sh**e.
Wul.
Aye there Wullie, ma good pal, Yer closer than you think to the truth. I think you're psychedelic, with a wee giftie there Wull. All will be revealed soon.
Nothing like scrubbing the Reverernd down with a bit of Daft Uisdean's swarfega for getting him to come clean.
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