#38: The Case of the Missing Toothbrush
One recent afternoon, Jenny was about to begin her morning ablutions when she announced that hygiene would have to be postponed. Her toothbrush was missing.
Peter gave his cousin a doubting look. It was true that Jenny often claimed her toothbrush, comb, or towel had been stolen, when the fact was she was just too lazy to groom. “My ass,” he sighed.
“I hope that’s just a comment and not the answer to my next question: Where could my toothbrush be?”
Reluctantly, Peter joined Jenny in the bathroom. An inspection of the medicine cabinet revealed that Jenny was telling the truth. It also revealed that instead of toothpaste, she’d been brushing with blue Cakemate decorator frosting. “They both come in tubes,” she shrugged. “I got mixed up.”
This explained the mystery of Peter’s strangely minty birthday cake, but did not solve the case at hand. The solution came later that day when, while going through the garbage cans to see if hoboes were stealing their milk cartons, as she suspected, Jenny found her toothbrush. It seems their roommate Angela had thrown it out. “Because it was attracting bugs. This is what happens when you brush with frosting. Don’t pretend you got confused by the tubes, and don’t try to blame this on the hoboes. If you do this again I’m going to stop buying your groceries.”
Chastened, Jenny agreed not to confuse toothpaste with frosting again. But she was slightly miffed by the lecture, and she can’t promise that, for the past few weeks, she hasn’t been confusing Angela’s lip balm with the ointment Jenny uses for her infected toenail.
#39: The Case of the Funny Aftertaste,
or Why Does My Drink Taste Like Lotion?
Because Peter and Jenny don’t have air conditioning, they prefer to spend the summer months in the darkened living room, clad in their bathing suits and sipping lemonade. They had just settled in for a quiet afternoon of criticizing each other’s swimwear when Jenny interrupted their idyll with a complaint.
“This tastes like Amway,” Jenny spat. “What the hell did you put in it?”
It was true that the lemonade had an unpleasant aftertaste. What, the Shut-Ins wondered, might be the cause?
“Maybe you didn’t rinse all the soap out when you washed the glasses,” Jenny suggested.
“That can’t be, Sherlock, because I didn’t wash the glasses in the first place. These are yesterday’s glasses.”
“Maybe that’s what the taste is. Maybe yesterday’s dregs fermented.”
“Are you drunk?”
But it wasn’t a bad idea, so the detectives tried adding spirits to improve the taste. Several glasses later, they concluded the lemonade was definitely not potable. They gave up on determining the cause, and decided the real mystery was what to do with the half-pitcher that remained. This conundrum was solved an hour later when a napping Jenny accidentally dangled her foot into the vessel and found the mixture left her calloused heel softer than Angela’s lip balm did. They poured the remainder into a mixing bowl and spent the rest of the afternoon soaking their feet in the cool lemon potion. If they ever manage to re-create the recipe, they hope to sell it to Amway itself, but, in the meantime, they plan to stick to iced tea.