Choose Your Own Adventure...Episode Two

And you the public chose, drum roll, My monkey is missing.  I didn’t expect that one at all.  Okay, the moment I wrote it I knew you would all be evil and pick it forcing me to figure out why someone’s monkey was missing.  And here we go.

 

“Mr. Xavier, I need your help.  My monkey is missing.”

He dropped into the leather chair behind the desk.  I heard papers crinkle.  “What?”

I clear my throat and take a couple steps closer putting myself into the center of the room.  “This is very important, sir.”  I enunciate to get my point across with each word.  “I have a prize winning monkey and it is now gone.”

“A real monkey?”

“Of course a real monkey.  I have pictures.”  I take out my phone and start tapping the scene trying to get to the photo album.

He smiled at me exposing more gum than teeth.  “You seriously came to this guy for a lost monkey?  Geez, no wonda.”

What did he mean by, you seriously came to this guy for a monkey?  My eyes fell again onto the bookcase along the wall.  There were collectors footballs and baseballs and more personal stuff.  There was a football trophy with MVP carved into the plate at the bottom.  Another had a little statue of a boxer on the top.  An athlete won these trophies.  The Harlow Xavier in front of me was no athlete.  Water-boy maybe.

I hear a noise behind me.  I spin around quickly, fear shooting through my body.

A tall man stands behind me.  He has broad shoulders and a square jaw.  His lake blue eyes look past me to the round man behind the desk.  This new man’s lips form into an almost sinister smile.

“Quinn, I see you’ve been decorating,” he says with his head cocked to the side so he can see around me.

“Quinn?  Who’s Quinn?”  I look from one to the other.

Harlow pushes himself up from the chair.  “Mr. Thromby sent me.”

“Who’s Mr. Thromby?”

The new man, who takes up most of the doorway, smiles a little wider.  “Then I guess we have a problem.”

“Wait,” I look at the new man, “who are you?”

“Harlow Xavier.”

“Then who’s he?”  I point to the man behind the desk who up until a second ago I thought was the private detective.

“That’s Quinnie.  He works for Mr. Thromby.”

“Who’s Mr. Thromby?”

Who does the real Harlow Xavier say Mr. Thromby is?

1.      A bookie

2.      The worlds only professional Smurf hunter

3.      The inspiration for Sue Sylvester from Glee

4.      The grape jelly king of Chicago