During a dinner of red root salad, mashed rutabaga and homemade choke cherry juice, a niggling doubt about her latest case asserted itself into her mind. Why had she found mail belonging to four different people? If the bags belonged to a single household the mail would have been addressed to one or two people with the same last name. The garbage bags might have come from a communal dumping arrangement and some of the individuals may not be culpable. She sighed. Litter investigating was never easy.
OH made up her mind to call the suspects. She finished her glass of choke cherry juice and poured another. The last batch had turned out especially well. There was something different about it that OH couldn't quite place. She pulled out the phonebook and dialed the first suspect's number.
"Hello, I'm a litter inspector, uh, investigator and I found a bag of your trash, anyhow, a bag with some of your trash in it on Holy Mackarel Hill". Shee nunciated the last few words carefully. They were tricky to say.
"Well, I haven't been on Holy Mackarel Hill in a week or more. I've been on vacation", the man said.
"Right. I suppose you're also going to tell me that Spanish conquistadores named the sloth after one of the seven deadly sins." OH was feeling uncharacteristically chatty. There was a pause on the other end of the line.
"Actually I think that's true. And I haven't been on that hill!"
"Then how do you explain the presents, er, presence of your garbage on said hill, Mr.--", she looked at her list of suspects, "Mr. Ira Greeb." OH tried to suppress a snicker but failed.
"I wouldn't make fun of your name, but I bet a lot of people do, huh? It sounds like I'm a dweeb!"
The man gave a long sigh. "My garbage must have fallen off the truck. I have it picked up by Grime & Baggs."
"Grime & Baggs, eh? I've been after those hooligans for a long time. Well, thank you, Mr. Greeb.", but he had hung up. Rude, OH thought. She had finished her glass of choke cherry juice and decided to get another. It really was quite good.
"Hello, S'Queenie Smallwood? This is the Litter Insector." A girl answered the phone and put her mother on the line.
"This is S'Queenie", a woman said.
"And this is the Sitter Infector, Mrs. Small Good, er, Mrs. S'All Good.
"Ex-cuse me?"
"I said, 'This is the Flitter Injector.' Did you know your name sounds like Sqweenie?" OH dissolved in laughter. When she finally stopped laughing a dial tone buzzed in her ear.
"Hello? Mrs. Wall Stud?" OH took a swig of juice. It sparkled in the glass. It effervesced. She was feeling downright merry despite Mrs. Wall Stud. Moving on, she dialed the next number on her list.
"Is this Thuc Duc?"
"Wha?"
"IS THIS THUC DUC?"
"We don' have suck duck. You wan' somting ewse?"
"No, I wan' Thuc Duc."
"You wan' plum duck?" OH hung up. Only one number left.
"I'm borry to be sothering you at this date late, but I'm looking for Ichi Karachi."
"You found me, Baby", intoned a silky voice.
"Oh, sood. I mean, good. You don't know what a hard time I've had..."
"You can tell me all about it."
"There was this hapstance restrance that's smelling suck and them Greeb shung up on me shuz he shrood..."
"Mmm-hmm, sure thing", the voice crooned, "I'm going to need your credit card number, honey."
"Wha? Itchy Scratchy, is that you?"
"Mmm-hmm, but for us to keep talking you're gonna have to give me your credit card number."
"I wanna talk to Fishy Satchy!"
The voice suddenly developed an edge. "Look, you called the Sirens All Night line. Are you going to give me your info or not?" OH wasn't quite sure what the speaker meant by "info", but she was thought it might be a kind of food.
"Tofu?" she asked. Click.
