Plan B

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  No Houses
The plan immediately following plan A!

Submitted: October 24, 2014

A A A | A A A

Submitted: October 24, 2014



Well, Plan A had gone tits up, so it was time for Plan B; Inspector Walt Haberdashery would be damned if he'd give up and just let Sherlock Holmes have the last word, and right now the last word was the last words; "Piss on you, Haberdashery!"  No Way!  He'd just have to think of another way.




This plan would work he thought, as he carefully placed the bag full of fresh dog shit, again donated by the neighbor dog, into a box marked 'Small World Microscopes', checked to make sure the 'Sherlock Holmes, 221b Baker Street' address was correct, and double checked that his rather ingenious contraption would work.  He put a bag full of flour inside and closed the lid.  When he opened it, the short piece of string he had attached to the lid should open the bag and unleash the shit.  Sure enough, when he opened the lid the bag fell open and let loose a white avalanche of the powder.  He chuckled to himself and set up the dog shit surprise for Holmes.  Now it was time to hit the post office. 




Dr. Watson answered the knock on the door.  It was the postman with a package for Holmes. 

"Sherlock, package for you!" Watson yelled into the other room, thanked the postman, and shut the door.

Holmes wasn't expecting anything, but when he'd seen the return address, his curiosity got the better of him.  Small World Microscopes; mmmm.  He thanked Watson, grabbed the package, saying,

"I wonder what it could be?" absent mindedly, and took it over to his desk.  He opened the box carefully, and immediately the air was scented with the perfume of the damned. 

"Shit!" he exclaimed.  Behind him he heard Watson gagging.  Right away, he thought of that bastard Haberdashery.  Oh, you WILL pay dearly! he said to himself.  He'd have to do some thinking but first things first.  He grabbed the full box of shit and went to the back door and tossed the entire box out into the morning air.




The next day sounded a knock on the door and Haberdashery opened it to find the postman with a package for him; it looked to be the winter coat he'd been expecting, although it was strange how fast it had arrived.  He'd only ordered it a couple of days ago, although the package was marked, 'rush', right below the return address of 'Pioneer Clothing, London, England'.  He thanked the postman and shut the door, taking the package over to his desk, where he ripped it open; immediately noticing a strange hissing sound.  Oh no, he knew that sound.  It immediately proceeded an explo--"  There was a loud 'bang!' followed by flying shit, and he stood there with streamers of dog shit hanging off him, and absolute rage inside; "Holmes!"




Sherlock Holmes shared a knowing smile with Dr. Watson; he had his revenge.  The presence of the postman on the porch told him that; for the postman had a package for him marked 'Light 'Em Up Oil Lamps'.  His fast lighting fuse was indeed lit when Haberdashery's greed blinded him to the danger and he ripped open the package marked 'Pioneer Clothing'.  Holmes was pretty sure his new invention would work, but who knew?  The package could have been jarred a lot during delivery.  How stupid did Haberdashery take him to be?  To use the same trick he himself had used, intercepting Haberdashery's outgoing mail thanks to a friend who worked at the St. Martin's le Grand Post Office and looking through it, finding an actual company name that Haberdashery was sending a letter to, ordering something, and sending a dog shit surprise package with the name of a company that he was already expecting something from, and 'boom!; instant shit storm.  Well, if Haberdashery thought he'd fall for the same ruse, he would be sorely mistaken!  He thanked the postman, waited a few moments, and walked the package out to the middle of the yard.  His landlady, Mrs. Hudson, called to him from her apartment,

"Whatever are you doing, Sherlock?"

"Observe, my good woman, someone is attempting a deception," walked a few paces away, and, picking up a large rock from the rose garden, gave it a mighty heave towards the package, where it smashed said package with a crunch, and Holmes suddenly had a sinking feeling inside.  His suspicions were confirmed when he walked up to the package, picked it up and broken glass, not dog shit, fell to the ground.  It had been the oil lamp.  Damn Haberdashery, but he had only himself to blame; once again, he had outsmarted himself.




As he stood there wearing the hind quarters of Fido, Haberdashery's first thought was Holmes must pay!, followed immediately by no, this shit-for-tat has gone too far; I've got to think of another way to get his ass!


The End





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