| || poker, razor, became, safety, barkeeper.
Image from the Internet.
The opening poem contains all the words (or variations of them) from today's Jumble.
Comments are welcomed!
Do not explicitly reveal any of the actual answer words until after closing time, but embedding them surreptitiously in comment sentences is encouraged.
7 comments:
(continued from yesterday.)
Mrs. Murphy's ex was Mr. Murphy who Sam knew.
He was a barkeeper, serving up a righteous brew.
They played poker once a month, penny-ante stuff.
Sam could not imagine him involved with snuff.
But he was the one who'd given Sam two leads.
Was he distracting from his own nefarious deeds?
Sam headed for the Spirit's Bar of Mr. Murphy
To discuss this case, which was becoming murky!
It was early afternoon, the tavern nearly empty.
Mr. Murphy was deflated when he saw Sam's entry,
"Mr. Sloan," he said, as prelude to confession,
"Banned from hexing metal, I was in depression."
"When safety razors coated blades in Teflon,
That was a substance I could do mischief on!
Nicks became cuts, then severed jugular veins.
So now I'll be facing the Gremlin Courts again."
(The End.)
No! Say it ain't so!!
It can't be truly "The End," Owen. Murphy's tampering with Teflon was certainly a dark deed, worthy of Sam's apprehension, but he must know of other curious gremlin crimes, more of them in the vein we've been enjoying from you.
So, okay, our honorable PI deserves a rest, maybe some R&R, but let's hope he'll return to duty on his own schedule, when the spirit, Erato or the Jester, moves him.
As for the jumble solution, my younger son used to call any auto horn a car beeper. That always made him giggle.
~ OMK
So the jumble was simplicity itself. The clues came easily and weren't even really necessary for the solution, which was the logical end word of the caption. Was this Monday??
I can't believe Murphy was so dastardly. Severed jugular veins? Very sad when a poker-playing regular-guy gremlin can't control himself.
But such a definite end to the story frees us up to anticipate even more ingenious tales in future. More power to you, Owen.
Ah, the curious case of the nicks in the night is solved. Once that curse was lifted off the Cubs it had to settle somewhere.
Whatever relation there was between day and difficulty seems to have passed. Only #3 proved hazardous.
Has Facebook replaced the bars of old as a place of acrimonious discussion? At my old workplace we had a Sports blogger-bar.
WC
Ever notice how often on TV the perp is some minor character we met only briefly in the first ten minutes of the show? Pure formula!
Well, I had a little trouble with item #3 and came here for help. It worked--your poem gave me the word, Owen, and once I had all the letters the solution was fun. So thank you, as always, for your intriguing poems, Owen. Like others, I'm looking forward to the next set. And the cartoon is clever, with the sleek guy in the suit and the beard, and the middle aged owner with the white hair and the colorful shirt. Nice to see the bar stools and little tables going to the back, with a mirror on the wall, and bottles of drink on the shelves behind the counter. And it's great to get to see the cartoons in color here on the blog. Cheers! (no, I'm still drinking coffee--the Merlot doesn't show up until the ABC News and Jeopardy in the evening).
Sorry - I should have paired Thalia with Erato as potential spirits to move Sam Sloan in the future--knowing that your gifts, Owen, are truly classical.
~ OMK
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