Forum adverts like this one are shown to any user who is not logged in. Join us by filling out a tiny 3 field form and you will get your own, free, dakka user account which gives a good range of benefits to you: No adverts like this in the forums anymore. Times and dates in your local timezone. Full tracking of what you have read so you can skip to your first unread post, easily see what has changed since you last logged in, and easily see what is new at a glance. Email notifications for threads you want to watch closely. Being a part of the oldest wargaming community on the net. If you are already a member then feel free to login now.

The Case of the April Fools

From the files of the MPY Kuudere Detective Agency


The first of April dawned bright and clear. The members of The Server began a morning of japes, jokes, and sneaky frivolities, starting with spoof stories in the early newsfeeds.

Olympe Viola Reese, kuudere detective, decanted herself from bed and prepped for the new day. It was not an official holiday, so her office was open, and she had to get down there pronto. The first few months of her career as a girl detective had been marked by frequent tardiness, to the annoyance of her partner, Ms Moon Potato, who eventually took the slacker severely to task. Olympe had given her word to do better, and resolutely kept the promise at least 70% of the time.

But there was no need to deny herself all fun at work, so she dressed in a new, 1960s-inspired outfit she had reserved for its first outing today. It was a Mary Quant, a tabard-style minidress of black and white panels with a bold white arrow running down the left front. It looked rather heraldic. The cut suited her boi-ish frame. The skirt was very short, and Olympe slipped into scarlet leggings to defend her legs from the cold. Finally, in acknowledgment of the promise of intermittent sharp, cold showers, she put on a Grenfell walking coat in military green. It was an original, found in a thrift shop and lovingly refurbished. She shod herself with white, ankle length go-go boots, and took her helmet for safe, scooty transport.

15 zippy Vespa minutes later the young detective dismounted in front of the Midnight Diner, secured essential supplies of donuts, and walked round to the office. Gold letters on the glass door panel -- The MPY Kuudere Detecter Agenticum -- reminded her of her calling.

Olympe hung up her helmet and coat, neatened her hair, set coffee to brew, made an elegant arrangement of the donuts on a serving plate, and generally got everything ready for serious business. She rang the message service they used to take calls instead of a digital answering machine. She was making notes on a yellow legal pad when Moon arrived, wearing her usual style of sober skirt suit, this one a bold, black and white houndstooth fabric. As always, Moon frisbeed her black beret onto the hatstand before she greeted her partner.

"Good morney, Pia. You’re wumblin early. Sharpness flibber-jibbin' colour bimbly-bomb, a noodle-grobbin' sign, I espers. Joy!”

“Deep joy, indeedy! Let me flap-dabble you a flobadob," Pia replied, and went to the coffee machine. “There's all your tastybold donutters wabblin', too." She pointed to the pastries.

Moon sat at her desk and picked up a bun she hoped was filled with lemon curd. Pia placed a mug of black coffee in front of her, and went back to her own desk with another mug.

Ms Moon Potato had long ago detected that there were two common reasons Pia arrived early in the office with a pile of breakfast treats for everyone.

1. She had spent the night with a lover and left early in the morning, probably before they woke up.
2. She wanted to “get around” her business partner in some matter, often to do with questionable expense claims.

On one occasion the minx had conflated the issues by indenting for a stick-on bra to replace one she had ruined by letting expensive chocolates melt in it. Moon had refused to go into the sordid details, and disallowed the claim.

Moon did not address Pia’s reasons for donuts now, though. She thought the flighty blonde would reveal her dubious purpose in her own time. Instead she launched straight into the day’s work.

“Have you loopy-logged the nighty-night chirpy-birbles, Pia?”

“Yeppers.”

“Anythink apropribold of mindleyness, then?”

“Oh yeppers, Moon, one thingamajumble.”

“Coff-wobble then, don’t keep me in suspenders.”

Pia teasingly took a slow nibble of a sugar dusted donut, and followed it with a savourous sip of hot brew, before she answered.

"Mistress Kou ring-rangled. She's swizz-swoopin' someone down to swabble us up in on some newfanglediddly called The Museum of Wasted Time.”

< < < < < > > > > >