Member-only story
BLEAK AND BLANK
The Maltese Guess
A journey into nothingness and pancakes
In the perpetual twilight of his waking world, the discount-shelf detective shivered under the weight of cold rain splashing on his increasingly ineffective outerwear. To solve the mystery trying to consume his mind his only real task at the moment, even as the shadow of pancakes through the rain-soaked window in the diner across the street vie for mindshare.
IDEAL, what a joke. The detective’s standard first foray into any new mystery falls short but with a ray of deceptive aspiration. “Two vowels” he says with an air of smugness bleeding into hope . Hope that he knows he should never let himself feel. He hasn’t seen IDEAL since those pancakes were his and the server’s smile warmed him as much as the accompanying coffee. Now even the whisper of the hint of the thought of such perfection fills him with GUILT. Sorry Flo.
But, press on our intrepid hero must, for the task is not yet done. His next foray into the abyss, the almost laughable SAINT. He ain’t met a SAINT since Sister Holywhatever rapped his knuckles for giggling in church, but he remembers his optimistic benedictions and brings the two vowels together. Could have as easily been PAINT or FAINT for all the damn good it would do him.
