My family needs a doctor.
And who better fufills such a need than Dr. Dorothy Gal ?
Pulling from my extensive background in chemistry (classic science fair volcano) and biology (over-fertilizing a once fluroushing garden), I have concluded it is unhealthy to "fall asleep" everytime one hears approaching footsteps.
Along with my fancy title I shall say "Hear ye, Hear ye" to assert doctorly authority. So "Hear ye, Hear ye" it goes:
Yes, the root to this fainting disease must be located in the brain (gasps are heard from fellow colleagues).
I have found the source of the ticking! It is a pipe bomb, Harry.
Woah! How did that Harry Potter Puppet Pals reference survive editing? But alas, Hear ye, Hear ye, it has indeed. Moving along.
At precisely 5:57 p.m. meandering into the dusty living room was I, with footsteps inaudible, even to the common household dragon. While stroking my corse black beard and trying to tweeze black tufts of hair from my detective moustache, there I saw it! Two lifeless bodies snoring at extreme registers were draped across the loveseat and armchair. Mine eyes have settled on this scene before. However, trying to remain composed while peering at a snoring father and heavily breathing sister, decidededly I threw a dective mask overtop my gleaming name tag reading "Dr. Dorothy Gal: Doctor of Music, But Pretender Of Fixing People's Ailments". In times like these, I prefer to be called "Dr. D Watson: Dective Supreme".
Doctors make some of the worst detectives. They're convinced reasonable explanations exist for everything. But Detectives (deserving a capital "D") are people who think outside of the box; people who ask for cheese pizza with the queso on the side, hum songs with their mouths wide open, and chaze cheetahs in the zoo. Yes, they even put boiling hot ice cubes into lemonade. Don't ask me how they do it... for I have not yet studied that chapter in my "Learn How to Be A Detective for Dummies" book. So, in my quest to hopscotch outside of the chalk boxes, I decided to
join them in their sleep-fest; foiling their plan.
Church choral books contain useful advice in the form of song lyrics : "Long before the mountains came to be, and the land and seas were stars of the night." And now that you are well aware of choir booklets which hold wisdom, I shall carry on with how my detective-ness won the gold. After carefully studying these two "specimens", I recognized a pattern. Any creak of the door, slight pound of a footstep, or jingle of keys sends Christine and dear father into an exagerated fit of "snoresleep" (the medical term for their condition). By joining in on their "plan" to ignore conversing with yours truly, they became so befuddled that their expressions revealed their plan to annoy the beegeebees out of me before "Supercalifragilisticexpedaliosious" could come spitting from my mouth (Which is my Detective Catchphrase! You there! Halt! Supercalifrag... )
After receiving an award from the DorothyAwards company, I sat watching the sunset, eating a ceramic dish filled with heavenly maccaroni & cheese made from scratch.
Editors Correction: made from a box. Proudly I displayed how fitting an entire fork prong into a single nostril is a breeze. Father was saying "Ew. Get it out of there". Christine was saying "You face will erupt in blood. Call Osmosis Jones". And all I could think was: My next mission as Dr. D Watson: Detective Supreme is to uncover the identity of Osmosis Jones.
