Saturday, February 16, 2013

Celebration Station! Mrs. Wigglebottom

Day 16

Mrs. Wigglebottom and the Room of Steam

By Mrs. Wigglebottom

The room was full of steam. There was steam to her left. Steam to her right. Even steam ahead. In fact, everywhere Mrs. Wigglebottom looked there was some steam. When the Bobby Cop told her that the room was full of steam she didn’t understand exactly what he had meant. But now that she was here in the room, she was beginning to wonder if all the steam was going to keep her from cracking this case. Because that is what Mrs. Wigglebottom did. She was a mystery solver. That is to say that she solved crimes that criminals committed. It was her job.

And she got paid lots and lots of English monies for doing it.  Because she lived in the part of England where people talked in a “cockney” accent.

And also the police officers were called bobbies.

She also lived in a time where a steam room may or may not have been invented yet so this was extra special for her to be here. But whereas her clothes, on the other hand, were not enjoying the steam. The steam in the room that she herself was taking a liking to.  No. Her clothes were starting to become tighter.

The bobby cop warned her about going in with her clothes on because the steam might start to shrink them. But Mrs. Wigglebottom did not listen and went in just the same. She was not going to take her corset, underwear and other things that women who lived in that time period would wear on their bodies. She was not going to remove them and give them to the bobby, because it was very hard to solve crimes naked. And also in the nude.

The body of the dead person was at the far end of the room so Mrs. Wigglebottom had to walk through all that steam to get to it. As her heels clicked on the cockney cobblestones, she could hear the sound and nodded at its comfort in this strange place. She also wondered why her shoes were not getting smaller like her dress and corset and other things that a lady in that time period would wear.

Her dress was already up past her ankle, which was an embarrassment for anyone in that time because people were really uptight about sex and things that had to do with it, like ladies showing their ankles and wearing short hair. So, she stopped to tug at the edge of her dress and when she bent over she saw that she had, in fact, arrived at the body on the floor that she was supposed to look at.

After trying to pull her skirt down just a little so her ankles would not be seen, she reached out and touched the knife in the body’s back.

“I will have to get the killer’s fingerprints from that,” she thought. This time period was after they invented fingerprints but before they had steam rooms which is what makes it a futuristic story to begin with.

While she was bending over, she saw a bobby cop coming up from behind her, through her legs. She stood straight and smiled at him.

“You have a message from the Gov’nah,” the officer said, handing her a cream colored envelope.

“Why thank you ever so much,” said Mrs. Wigglebottom. “All this steam is making it hard for me to think. Will there be any way to have it removed soon?”

“I don’t know ma’am,” the bobby cop said shuffling around in his shoes. “I am not allowed to know that sort of things.”

It was then that Mrs. Wigglebottom realized that the cop was looking at her knees. Where the steam had shrank her dress so much, her knees were now showing through her and beneath her dress.

She smiled and realized that the room was full of steam enough to where no one could see the two of them if they started doing it. So they stopped the investigation and they did it right on the floor next to the dead body. When they were done, Mrs. Wigglebottom noticed that she could not get her clothes back on because they had shrank so much. So the bobby cop gave her his jacket that did not shrink because he was a man and was smart enough to wear things to work that would not shrink on him.

“Get fingerprints from the knife,” Mrs. Wigglebottom told the now satisfied bobby cop. “I think you will find that they are on the fingers of the dead man.”

“Wha?” asked the officer.

“These wounds are self-inflicted.” Mrs. Wigglebottom said as she wiggled away.


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Mrs. Wigglebottom lives in England, where they eat strange foods and talk in funny accents. She has three cats, all named Jim, and dosen't know how to drive because she is a Victorian and they don't have vehicles in her time period yet. Sometimes she forgets her first name, and is fairly sure she never married so there is no Mr. Wigglebottom. She just likes how the Mrs. in Mrs. Wigglebottom sounds when folks say her name aloud. 
You can't find her on the web because she is Victorian, and they don't have silly things like the interwebs yet, remember?  

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