Dashiell Hammett Is The Only Other Person Who Could Write This

I am a true, hard-boiled American hero.

While you were growing up reading See Spot Run and Amelia Badelia books, I was prepping for the future. I devoured the Nancy Drew series, read all the Encyclopedia Brown books, had various case files on The Hardy Boys, even had a slight photographic memory ala lesser juvenile crime fighting hero Cam Jansen.

Not only did I know where in the world Carmen Sandiego was, I could also locate her in various time periods.

I knew that these hobbies would somehow come in handy for future crime-fighting endeavors, despite the fact that I am a major pussy.

Today was that day.

I woke up at noon, politely declining my alarm clock's invitation to wake up several hours earlier. After my normal 45 minute intraweb procrastination, including but not limited to, IM'ing my girlfriend, vigorously reading the UniWatch, posting on upwards of 3 message boards, and listening to The New Pornographers at obnoxious volume levels, I headed downstairs to make breakfastbruncha pot of coffee featuring an omelette.

I noticed something askew.

Outside my back steps, were two overcoats, one of them men's, the other a women's fur coat, covering a beige purse. Now, I know if anyone in my house were to cross-dress it would probably be me, but I don't look good in fur, so I quickly discounted that I had perhaps blacked out and purchased these items. I waited for my roomates to come back from whence they came, to see if they, or their various lady friends were responsible for this.

Their answer: No.

This problem was beyond their gumshoe-esque thought processes and was quickly becoming something only someone trained in the art of sleuth-dom could quantify. That someone was me.

I quickly rifled through the purse to find identification, also finding a cell phone along the way. Using quick wits and innate technical ability that would make George Lazenby go, "What the fuck?", I managed to find an entry in the cell phone listed as "Home".

I then called that number, and left a message, stating to the person that I am, in this holiday season, their personal Jesus Christ, Santa Claus, and Hannukah Harry all wrapped into one had her stuff and would like to get it back to her.

Fast forward a few hours and I get a message back from the girl saying that this is a miracle because her stuff was stolen from a bar on Saturday night. Turns out it's the same bar, Tomy Doyle's, where my roomates and I used to dominate on Trivia night. Apparently, we had left the patrons there in such bad mental and fiscal shape that they had resorted to stealing purses and coats only to dump in my backyard (?!).

I was able to successfuly give this woman back her stolen goods and turn down a handsome reward, because it is all in a day's work for a true American hero as I try to clean up the streets of Newton, bringing back it's much deserved Safest City In America distinction (4th Safest, sounds downright sketchy).

Note: everything in this post was true, except for the part where I said I looked bad in fur.
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YouTube Clip Of The Day



Thanks to Bryan Geiler for the video, and thanks to my parents for raising my Jewish so I never had to wait for an imaginary fat guy in a jumpsuit in a cold ass car hole garage.