Lost And Found (Part I): Misplacement Therapy

Friday 

An extensive sweep of the flat confirms my wallet’s missing. As is the norm in such circumstances, I refuse to accept it has been lost or stolen. Instead, I cunningly lie the blame at the door of the person who recently invited me out for dinner.

‘It was here,’ I insist, waving my hand about airily, in the manner of a 18th Century French courtier. ‘You must have tidied it away.’

‘No,’ she sighs. ‘You must have lost it.’

‘Never!’ I proclaim, punching the air defiantly, in the manner of a 18th Century French revolutionary.

‘Checked your pockets?’

‘Ah …’

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6 Responses to Lost And Found (Part I): Misplacement Therapy

  1. Mangonel says:

    All very well and good, but aren’t you The Man with the Zillion Pockets? I dunno that ‘Ah’ quite covers it.

  2. Hmm… I think I’ve been in that situation, says another she.

  3. 100 Words says:

    M: Good spot. I really wanted to mention that, but didn’t have enough words. Damn my own pesky brief.

  4. ally says:

    it’s always in one pocket or another. even if you have a zillion pockets, you will have the time to look for it because what can one do without their wallet?

  5. Stinkypaw says:

    are you actually saying that you looked like a “typical” male does?

  6. mad muthas says:

    in the manner of an 18th century aristocrat who’s about to have his head lopped orf.

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