Sunday, December 17, 2006


HOLMES: Is that you, Watson?

WATSON: No, Holmes, it's an exploding cow.

HOLMES: An exploding cow? Explain yourself, my good man.

WATSON: Well, apparently, sometimes an unfortunate bovine fails to expel the wind, so to speak, and it goes the other way. The resulting pressure builds at an alarming rate and in a matter of seconds ker-bang - one more self-combusting bovine fatality.

HOLMES: Hmm, most curious. I have always felt that something should be done about the cow's inexplicable fondness for emitting methane. It is only a matter of time before the criminal element within our midst exploits this curiosity to their own ends and begins to plant extra flatulent bovines outside banks and such places in order to benefit from the resulting explosions.

WATSON: You mean, use poor old daisy as a bovine bomb, Holmes?

HOLMES: Precisely. Indeed, it is not beyond the realms of Victorian fantasy to countenance the possibility that Professor Moriarty is doing exactly that. Tell me, Watty Poos, how many incidents of exploding bovines have been recorded this month in the Baker Street vicinity?

WATSON: Why, there have been seven this weekend alone. The papers are full of reports from all over the country. Nationwide it must run into the hundreds.

HOLMES: Watson, we must act if we ever want to taste semi-skimmed again.

(massive bang of multiple bovine self-exploders outside Bank of England)

WATSON: Holmes, it's the Bank of England. It's covered in bovine effluent.

HOLMES: It is as I feared, my learned quack. The dastardly Moriarty has blown through to the bank vaults to acquire sufficient funds to sustain his jelly baby and champagne lifestyle. Make haste, Watson, old bean. To the Bank, the very existence of the Great of Britain depends upon it.

WATSON: Coming, Holmes. It's MOO-sic to my ears!

HOLMES: Indeed.

WATSON: A good job we'd already had our MOO-sli for breakfast then.

HOLMES: (groans) Oh, really, Watson, must you play the fool when our country is in such peril?

WATSON: There's no UDDER way, Holmes.

(more explosions of prime bovine erupt all over London)

HOLMES: Watson, if there's no milk for my Horlicks tonight, I want you to know that I shall hold you personally responsible.

WATSON: It's utter COW-nage out there, Holmes, what what what.

HOLMES: Confound it, man, this is no time for flippancy.

WATSON: Sorry, Holmes, I just couldn't stop MILKING it.

(HOLMES rolls eyes and heads for pantry)



Clarissa said...

The last time I boarded a plane, there was a man trying to check in his cow. Do you suppose it was the tactic behind a nefarious plot?

birdandbuffalo said...

Could be. Did he have a long handlebar moustache and devilish grin?