1180. The case of the missing…
© Bruce Goodman 18 November 2017
Charles hadn’t seen his penis for about sixteen years. Mind you, nor had anyone else. His paunch so hung that he could neither glance down nor bend over far enough. It wasn’t like that for his feet. He occasionally saw them. For example, if he put them on a chair one at a time to cut his nails or tie up his shoe laces he had a reasonable view of his phalanges. Not so the other aforementioned appendage.
It therefore came as a devastating shock to him one day when he couldn’t find it. It filled him with consternation. It had disappeared. He thought he’d better try and read about it before he saw a doctor, but there seemed no literature; neither online nor in the local library.
Full of foreboding he made an appointment with the doctor. She was of no help. She simply laughed and said it was much ado about nothing. What a bafflement! Much ado about nothing my foot.
And then it dawned on him. If he couldn’t see it, then possibly nor would he have seen a thief. It had been stolen.
(Not to be continued).