tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88635827004941060942024-02-06T19:11:55.866-08:00Mr Mews Cat DetectiveA civilized gentleman solves mysteries in a not so civilized worldMr.Mewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15863579888103756215noreply@blogger.comBlogger143125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8863582700494106094.post-83239014420120198942011-05-26T15:22:00.000-07:002011-05-26T15:22:02.432-07:00Case Closed<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsV2V_24A8hS3waSngtpj_O-s8BD9dQq0qSqUcoD-knQ8CQyProRGPne0JLRuYkcLm3f465IdeHYBtfZPVvVZ1CVqAUqzj9_u5Qv8IlUra_dtDRRGTQr_JdFjCOqQnyNIM1VabZuA3NkF6/s1600/img_0061.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsV2V_24A8hS3waSngtpj_O-s8BD9dQq0qSqUcoD-knQ8CQyProRGPne0JLRuYkcLm3f465IdeHYBtfZPVvVZ1CVqAUqzj9_u5Qv8IlUra_dtDRRGTQr_JdFjCOqQnyNIM1VabZuA3NkF6/s320/img_0061.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;">"I believe everyone is here Mews. Jon Lenin, Regis McBain and Fern Butterfield are all sipping tea in the living room. Are you ready to solve this case Mews?" Mews nodded as he removed his reading glasses.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Indeed I am Quigs. Let's get this show on the road. I have a stack of micro-mysteries awaiting me and it's high time we solve McBain's case."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Micro-mysteries Mews? I'm not sure I understand," Quigley said following Mews to the living room. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"A series of short mysteries. I'll explain later. Right now our guests are waiting." As Mews opened the door to the living room, Fern Butterfield stepped up, cleared her throat and addressed the room.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"I have something to say," Fern said looking around. "I'm ashamed and embarrassed to admit that I'm the reason Regis McBain is being blackmailed." At this Regis dropped his tea cup onto the floor.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Fern, You...you? But I thought we had something special?"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"We do Regis," she said looking at Jon Lenin. "And that's why I'm stepping up and admitting my part in this affair," Fern said. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Your part?" Regis said. He turned to Jon Lenin who shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "You set her up to this Lenin didn't you?" Regis got up into Jon Lenin's face and grabbed his jacket. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Now, now, there will be none of this," Quigley said fluttering his wings rapidly as he positioned himself in between the two men. Please take a sit, both of you." Regis made one last push before he backed up and sat down holding his head in his hands.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"It's true," Jon Lenin said. "I set Fern up to date you. I took those pictures of you at the cabin and the spa with Fern. She texted me information and directions as to your whereabouts. It was all quite easy really. And uncomplicated-that is until she fell in love with you and broke things off with me."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"And let me guess," Quigley said excitedly. "That's when you attacked McBain-after Fern told you she was no longer loyal to you and your schemes. So the attack had nothing to do with blackmail, and everything to do with love." Jon Lenin glared at Quigley and began to collect his things.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"And where do you think you're going Mr Lenin?" Mews asked as he reached for the phone.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"I think my business is done here," he said heading for the door. "I'm going home."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"We'll see about that," Mews said. As Jon Lenin opened the door he was greeted by two police officers and a pair of handcuffs.</span> <span style="font-size: large;">Regis stood up and stepped towards Fern looking angry but at once concerned. "You might want to get your phone number changed Mr Lenin because it looks like you might have a new home for awhile."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"But wait!" Regis said. "What's gonna happen to Fern, Mews?" Regis asked. "No one's gonna take my lady away from me! I'm not pressing charges-if that's what it takes to keep Fern out of the clink!"</span>Mr.Mewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15863579888103756215noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8863582700494106094.post-90218083857055291392011-05-19T14:29:00.000-07:002011-05-19T14:29:48.057-07:00Mews Returns From His Trip Next Week<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisWtJ7e6aUZvPWB9E3vVNcmxJGU_GsbxebZ3Kx1rwKaTFcFGjkrwb7ON1SlCIQ8OhVL6NKINal1GGPEZkyGsQXgTZaSc3OCnxtMl1wmUmMuvmKHf5SKY9VB3aeaPaJdFXtS9kRXeS6VJmd/s1600/img_9745.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisWtJ7e6aUZvPWB9E3vVNcmxJGU_GsbxebZ3Kx1rwKaTFcFGjkrwb7ON1SlCIQ8OhVL6NKINal1GGPEZkyGsQXgTZaSc3OCnxtMl1wmUmMuvmKHf5SKY9VB3aeaPaJdFXtS9kRXeS6VJmd/s320/img_9745.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;">Mr Mews will return the week of May 23 to solve his case! He has been on a humanitarian trip across the ocean helping the people of Japan solve animal crimes and pet mysteries. He apologizes for his long absence...</span>Mr.Mewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15863579888103756215noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8863582700494106094.post-38730186980376791862011-04-12T11:08:00.000-07:002011-04-12T11:08:21.239-07:00And Then There Were Two<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTqmzrsytBv6y9FD_AX9lad8ofISrtRPDySWpjDoMOZIeJw748iywjPYTO1GU6qpTpAsVIK2u9oqm9Sse5RDiS37Vfuibmv35duefJrD2ikfgDfPg3G-_7s55BQUssIBfuXY63pdAxwCt-/s1600/img_9887.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTqmzrsytBv6y9FD_AX9lad8ofISrtRPDySWpjDoMOZIeJw748iywjPYTO1GU6qpTpAsVIK2u9oqm9Sse5RDiS37Vfuibmv35duefJrD2ikfgDfPg3G-_7s55BQUssIBfuXY63pdAxwCt-/s320/img_9887.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;">"And it wasn't Scarlett White the producer. She was on the air moderating the political debate between Ham and Jimmy Scape."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Yes, besides, she has no real motive," Quigley added. "McBain is her cash cow-she would have no reason to get rid of him. So that leaves only three-Imelda McBain the ex, Jon Lenin and Fern Butterfield."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Actually two Quigs. You see it wasn't Imelda McBain either. She was on a shoe-shopping trip to New York during the attack. And while she does have motive, she doesn't need any money. Besides, she's not the kind of "do it yourself" criminal we're looking for. In addition to her personal driver, chef, assistant, and stylist, she even pays for someone to retrieve her mail. No, if she were behind any of this she would most likely have hired a professional. And as I explained earlier, I'm quite sure this is not the work of a professional."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"And then there were two Mews. So, Fern Butterfield and Jon Lenin..." </span>Mr.Mewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15863579888103756215noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8863582700494106094.post-1270811495567516802011-04-05T13:13:00.000-07:002011-04-05T13:13:29.944-07:00Who Didn't Do It?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAGQWfJ7QfnW0F_1zQv2XZHFbDoe-slGT2T8uN3q9uGFuJ1rRp0CHE5SbbVJq5OBr77ohTT3VsyIjGImFNsmNg4K6-hLaonGHD4q52N6bcPltqNyyIDKX9gMIgC1sznlRL8famdmJuMHSn/s1600/img_9763.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAGQWfJ7QfnW0F_1zQv2XZHFbDoe-slGT2T8uN3q9uGFuJ1rRp0CHE5SbbVJq5OBr77ohTT3VsyIjGImFNsmNg4K6-hLaonGHD4q52N6bcPltqNyyIDKX9gMIgC1sznlRL8famdmJuMHSn/s320/img_9763.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;">"By the tried and true process of elimination Quigley, I can tell you who is not Regis McBain's attacker. Later I'll explain to you why I believe the attacker and the blackmailer are the same person (s)."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Continue Mews," Quigley said listening intently on the other end of the line.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Charlie Poker, "Ham the Operator" Radio, and Jimmy Scape did not attack McBain. And here's why- Charlie Poker, as you know, has been in prison for the last several months. He also really has no motive-the reason he's in prison is for burglary. Addicts like Charlie Poker need quick money and fast turnovers. I have no reason to suspect that he could even pull off a blackmailing scheme-let alone concoct a plan and execute it from behind prison walls. As for Ham and Jimmy-well, the night Regis was attacked they were locked in a live, online political debate-I have the dated transcript to prove that they could not have been McBain's attacker."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"If you are right Mews, that leaves only four suspects. And how can you be sure McBain's attacker is also his blackmailer?"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Nothing is for certain Quigs, but I'm quite sure the person or persons behind this is quite the amateur by the way in which things have been carried out. An amateur criminal would not have the resources or the knowledge to hire outside people to perpetrate his crimes. And by the amount of loose ends and unfulfilled threats I would say that this is most definitely the work of an amateur." </span> Mr.Mewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15863579888103756215noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8863582700494106094.post-21867620643669404372011-04-04T11:51:00.000-07:002011-04-04T11:51:41.582-07:00The Last Few Suspects<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnogk60SKpx2cL1cNgVibWMRb5yTBqVt1PNhKSMEy-8SN4tBmjIA4YOcoEaChS9Ukc7oNobWw-iEmXKmWgQCOM4oWrchIT0ucNK9BNRlMc5lZiZ9GA6BJLf6DKzNnto0NfwGnh7gJ94Fuy/s1600/img_9755.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnogk60SKpx2cL1cNgVibWMRb5yTBqVt1PNhKSMEy-8SN4tBmjIA4YOcoEaChS9Ukc7oNobWw-iEmXKmWgQCOM4oWrchIT0ucNK9BNRlMc5lZiZ9GA6BJLf6DKzNnto0NfwGnh7gJ94Fuy/s320/img_9755.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;">"Quigley, tell me what you've found out about our final suspects while I've been away."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Of course, Mews. Well, we can count out Charlie Poker the gambling addict since he's been in prison for the last three months due to an unrelated burglary charge. That leaves Jimmy Scape the Angry Blogger and "Ham The Operator," the DJ who fills in for McBain from time to time-Ham seemed to have nothing bad to say about McBain-in fact-he thinks of McBain as his mentor. Jimmy Scape, on the other hand, is a deluge of hate. Not only did he have absolutely nothing good to say about McBain over his laptop and a stiff Martini, it would seem from his words that he thought McBain was the antichrist!"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Goodness gracious, Quigs. Well, yes, none of this surprises me. In fact while I've been out of town I've had time to review the entire case with fresh eyes, and, I believe I may have solved it-well, most of it anyway."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"That is refreshing news I have to say Mews! It's been such a long case, I admit I've already forgotten half of the suspects."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Not to worry Quigs. I shall be reviewing the suspects and the important aspects of the case for you this week as I tie up some loose ends. I don't-of course-want to make any mistakes when I finally reveal the culprit."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Or culprits," Quig said sounding excited.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Or culprits," Mews said before hanging up the phone.</span>Mr.Mewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15863579888103756215noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8863582700494106094.post-42844514314999308952011-03-30T21:49:00.000-07:002011-03-30T21:49:29.000-07:00Mr Mews Takes An Unexpected Trip<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBzHSeUHU45oF39ep3d6b3ekAy2Fybe_3aW5YWS90LBdbv4QJuQqD3jsA2VfCKTbEYepaWICM6MlGMmFhEc_Hic2b2SdRk1RwI_UhlWrTU_4y9azUQ17Nk_V2YyZ13cmSGRMrD_pCjyVR8/s1600/dsc01797.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBzHSeUHU45oF39ep3d6b3ekAy2Fybe_3aW5YWS90LBdbv4QJuQqD3jsA2VfCKTbEYepaWICM6MlGMmFhEc_Hic2b2SdRk1RwI_UhlWrTU_4y9azUQ17Nk_V2YyZ13cmSGRMrD_pCjyVR8/s320/dsc01797.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;">"Oh hello there, Mews here. I just wanted to apologize for the gap in my latest mystery-if you can believe it I've been called out of town on unrelated business but I'll be back this week on the trail of McBain's blackmailer. Stay tuned and help me get this case solved!"</span>Mr.Mewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15863579888103756215noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8863582700494106094.post-61752287907391403652011-03-21T17:12:00.000-07:002011-03-21T17:12:23.333-07:00Quigley Pursues Jimmy Scape, the Angry Blogger<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs3Son7By3urJ8Yiz3rg2i3XCQE6s8PVfIMNqutGkf3awjcU40XxFNxA7ClDNLL_zVTkSHi0Ij2ke_DCmlZ9RbhjbmfGnF-e3C6Ah9VjCmNH2pIoDFzpokDqrYe14jUZKxfb0AxYA20A45/s1600/img_0050.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs3Son7By3urJ8Yiz3rg2i3XCQE6s8PVfIMNqutGkf3awjcU40XxFNxA7ClDNLL_zVTkSHi0Ij2ke_DCmlZ9RbhjbmfGnF-e3C6Ah9VjCmNH2pIoDFzpokDqrYe14jUZKxfb0AxYA20A45/s320/img_0050.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;">"Nope," Quigley said setting down the phone. "Jimmy Scape still won't answer. What a rude fellow," he said dialing again.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Hang up the phone," Mews said. "I'm going to send you down to the bar Jimmy Scape spends his evenings blogging Quigs. Here's the address," Mews said handing him a torn slip of paper. "If he won't come to us, we'll come to him. Now, off with you Quigley. I've got some thinking to do."</span>Mr.Mewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15863579888103756215noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8863582700494106094.post-18623948083058869392011-03-18T16:23:00.000-07:002011-03-18T16:23:26.448-07:00Fern Discusses her Love Life<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC4qNFcZ9Iz8p1WfeM4icsuvvT0pcUBQ182wK3am2bX5d4j7ZWLLYt4mlH4svh92-Y6XHEACDXLQP4MbrZFEkOSwV68XAivOhvlQKxS8Xu2iDqRFyBibw21iKDs4RKRX-V5PdW83tIn3-v/s1600/img_0060.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC4qNFcZ9Iz8p1WfeM4icsuvvT0pcUBQ182wK3am2bX5d4j7ZWLLYt4mlH4svh92-Y6XHEACDXLQP4MbrZFEkOSwV68XAivOhvlQKxS8Xu2iDqRFyBibw21iKDs4RKRX-V5PdW83tIn3-v/s320/img_0060.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;">"Regis and I met at a charity event last year-we chatted only briefly and then he called me several weeks later and asked me out on a date," Fern said. "I told him no several times but he was very persistent. I finally accepted thinking at least it would be interesting to see what Regis "McPain" was like in person. Turns out he was very sweet, and nothing like his radio personality," Fern added. "I'm afraid I don't have much to add that Regis hasn't already told you. Except that we did run into Jon Lenin at the Sacred Cow Coffee shop the other day. If glaring is a crime then I'd have to say that Jon would've gotten arrested. He's none too happy that Regis and I are an item and he's been quite vocal about it in our circle of friends. You see, Jon Lenin and I dated a few years ago. But I'm sure he has nothing to do with this case Mews. He's just bitter that I broke up with him-he was married to his work, a real martyr for the cause that one." She paused briefly and then continued in a whisper. "I have my suspicions about that guy Jimmy Scape, you know the blogger. He's had it in for Regis from the start and he's got connections, you know, with bad news types."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"And how do you know that Ms Butterfield?" Quigley asked. Fern blushed.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Well, I kinda dated Jimmy Scape a while back too."</span><br />
<br />
Mr.Mewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15863579888103756215noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8863582700494106094.post-59535270507565879872011-03-17T16:10:00.000-07:002011-03-17T16:10:11.326-07:00Meet Fern Butterfield<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSgNBrX3GhV7zuYqPM8jWZQ_stWWdzgcE90X924NJZqSjAysxT41t3fN9_L90BqZoabY2GXEW2HjeGCsHvLBsdJ-PS-5fn_kikdxJJ4Q7EPyEcgMbJTg7HWKZS8B2TSlDwRo7A-Hd8rBoq/s1600/coloredfern.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSgNBrX3GhV7zuYqPM8jWZQ_stWWdzgcE90X924NJZqSjAysxT41t3fN9_L90BqZoabY2GXEW2HjeGCsHvLBsdJ-PS-5fn_kikdxJJ4Q7EPyEcgMbJTg7HWKZS8B2TSlDwRo7A-Hd8rBoq/s320/coloredfern.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;">"It's so nice to meet you Mr Mews. Regis has told me only good things about you," Fern Butterfield said as she entered Mr Mews' apartment. Quigley looked out into the hall before he closed the door behind her. "Oh, Millicent couldn't make it. She had some sort of audition today," Fern said slipping out of a canvas jacket. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Oh, well that's too bad," Quigley said looking disappointed. Mr Mews pulled a chair out from the dining room table and offered it to Fern. "Just in time for tea-do you take cream or sugar?" Mews asked. Fern shook her head.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"No, I'm lactose and fructose intolerant. I'm on a strict macrobiotic diet," she said pushing hair off of her shoulder with a thin hand.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Well, you'd have a heck of a time finding something to eat around here," Quigley said chortling. "I'm afraid Mews is a strict carnivore!"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Yes, well," Mews said uncomfortably, "let's not waste anymore of Ms Butterfield's time shall we Quigs? Now, Fern, if I might call you that. Won't you tell us how you and Regis McBain first met?"</span>Mr.Mewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15863579888103756215noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8863582700494106094.post-20872112216758388932011-03-14T15:41:00.000-07:002011-03-14T15:41:47.952-07:00Quigley and Mews Make Plans<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaAd0M3rNoyFh_2Shy_k8UWBQLC6FVsusSuggNL7mfTUvEQ7T23eCwEVLkw2i2xFGQ0sEtAvOCs3r4LPKDgjHJr2MalEAiKS7wAJDjwrxCiEz7HHqtYV6k8U9WiOM_TMRB-8zLDWJfrkrA/s1600/kittenquigs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaAd0M3rNoyFh_2Shy_k8UWBQLC6FVsusSuggNL7mfTUvEQ7T23eCwEVLkw2i2xFGQ0sEtAvOCs3r4LPKDgjHJr2MalEAiKS7wAJDjwrxCiEz7HHqtYV6k8U9WiOM_TMRB-8zLDWJfrkrA/s320/kittenquigs.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;">"It's time to finish interviewing the last of the suspects Quigs. Strange thing though, I can't seem to get a hold of the final three on the phone," Mews said.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Refresh my memory Mews-let's see we have Ham "The Operator" Radio, Charlie Poker the gambling addict and who else?" Quigley asked.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Jimmy Scape. The enraged blogger," Mews responded.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Don't forget Fern Butterfield," Quigley added. "I happen to be one step ahead of you on the Butterfield front Mews. We have a lunch date with her this week," Quigley said. "Millicent will be accompanying her as well for moral support," he added. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"I see, so your girlfriend will be in attendance," Mews stated.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Oh, no, she's not my girlfriend anymore Mews. We have resolved that matter, or don't you recall?"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Perhaps my memory is a little faulty on that matter," Mews said with a twinkle in his eye.</span>Mr.Mewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15863579888103756215noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8863582700494106094.post-87770679641075368672011-03-10T13:37:00.000-08:002011-03-10T13:37:38.971-08:00He Won't Back Down<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMcskCKyA7P6VvnFfd_-bJR14UPRbI8YHzZ7hjgOxO5PXqQMXkVx065Ouc975Me47mHByag7iDRHVyVKLGqcaPp1-wFQ95vZUb4Cv89S8D7lckc6Q-NYD9lIx-1IcAHnLaBKEVvF4CkVdi/s1600/kitmcbain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMcskCKyA7P6VvnFfd_-bJR14UPRbI8YHzZ7hjgOxO5PXqQMXkVx065Ouc975Me47mHByag7iDRHVyVKLGqcaPp1-wFQ95vZUb4Cv89S8D7lckc6Q-NYD9lIx-1IcAHnLaBKEVvF4CkVdi/s320/kitmcbain.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;">"Well, I'm sure as h*** not pulling my show!" McBain exclaimed. As he spoke his thick mustache swayed.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"No, of course that won't do," Mews said reviewing the note. "It does shed some light on the blackmailer. It does seem by the person's request that the blackmailer is politically motivated."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"It does Mews," Quigley offered. "But it doesn't necessarily mean that the blackmailer is a political rival. It could be that the blackmailer just wants to see McBain go down." Mews nodded and then drew his attention to McBain who was pulling something out from the side of his jacket.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"In any case I'm ready for this jackwagon next time he messes with Regis McPain," McBain said producing a small black pistol. </span><br />
<br />
Mr.Mewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15863579888103756215noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8863582700494106094.post-66797170238145049242011-03-08T16:08:00.000-08:002011-03-08T16:08:08.374-08:00F is for Forever<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqHOeyslWiqnfL7gcInngvOvNMUR4mZmYed_bopuoF9xxu7yJ2FIB7s2Py_9N4teDI505aYGrirD-66xip78qrbfgW3wbIkonSdL_Ep4v0e9GeLXg7XdE5mKbjJX2rLgAFgoD-x7KAM5Kz/s1600/kitters+mcbainers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqHOeyslWiqnfL7gcInngvOvNMUR4mZmYed_bopuoF9xxu7yJ2FIB7s2Py_9N4teDI505aYGrirD-66xip78qrbfgW3wbIkonSdL_Ep4v0e9GeLXg7XdE5mKbjJX2rLgAFgoD-x7KAM5Kz/s320/kitters+mcbainers.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;">"I received this in the mail this morning," McBain said breathlessly handing Mews a letter without a return address. Quigley was busy plucking black hairs out of his toes and beak as Mews read the letter aloud. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Regis McBain, this letter is to inform you that you will no longer be blackmailed provided you perform one action. That action is to take yourself off the air. Forever. Yours, X."</span>Mr.Mewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15863579888103756215noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8863582700494106094.post-13947625816248914312011-03-07T16:22:00.000-08:002011-03-07T16:22:30.375-08:00A Misunderstanding<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZczR0L0V8S1uh5LrXUT2xI36AyFADWEsX3qhhQ4ozbFCWb5J85HDC65nW3fR4ZvtwE_pwd1BOp8S15LPpzniWhURH3futqx124lvvIa5xrZ-VXd2-bTpfji67H33W-hGfRDMQruP3SwTq/s1600/mcbain+surprised.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZczR0L0V8S1uh5LrXUT2xI36AyFADWEsX3qhhQ4ozbFCWb5J85HDC65nW3fR4ZvtwE_pwd1BOp8S15LPpzniWhURH3futqx124lvvIa5xrZ-VXd2-bTpfji67H33W-hGfRDMQruP3SwTq/s320/mcbain+surprised.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;">"Mews! Get that flying rodent off my beard!" At this, Quigley hopped away from McBain as the DJ struggled to regain his composure. "Good grief, what is going on?" McBain asked. Quigley hopped down from the stairs in the building lobby and looked at Mews.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"I thought he was going to attack you Mews," Quigley said.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Attack Mews! You're crazy, one crazy bird," McBain said smoothing out his mustache.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"So why are you wearing a hooded coat and sneaking around Mews' building?" Quigley asked.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"I'm wearing this hood so I don't get hassled-but apparently that doesn't work. Should I have to explain myself Mews?"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"No," Mews said looking at Quigley. "Quigs, we had an impromptu meeting today-simple as that. McBain has some new information for us," Mews said as Quigley avoided eye contact. "Why don't we step inside and forget that this all happened," Mews said taking the lead. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Easy for you to say Mews," McBain said glaring at Quigley. "You aren't the one getting attacked every other day." </span>Mr.Mewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15863579888103756215noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8863582700494106094.post-55888519565089659302011-03-04T13:47:00.000-08:002011-03-04T13:49:27.053-08:00Quigley Strikes!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYGdZnWYsjqa5B1ucLNonrKY3AjEkS-2MG448MXcgqvSpEpYhKkZCp1Nt-zkphGbdHNJDKgjFFBZM8Y0SvFN6UauTgIcNxgTkBT0bmQxWMFNP3NfeLwUqHfXbIB4OfMScmo9ON690hxlXa/s1600/img_9647.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYGdZnWYsjqa5B1ucLNonrKY3AjEkS-2MG448MXcgqvSpEpYhKkZCp1Nt-zkphGbdHNJDKgjFFBZM8Y0SvFN6UauTgIcNxgTkBT0bmQxWMFNP3NfeLwUqHfXbIB4OfMScmo9ON690hxlXa/s320/img_9647.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;">While Mews has been busy conducting interviews, Quigley has been busy trailing McBain and Mews in hopes of exposing their stalkers. Quigley quietly hopped from tree branch to tree branch, power line to roof top when he spotted a cloaked figure emerging from an alley way as Mews wrestled with an armful of grocery bags and library books on the sidewalk near his building. Quigley waited until Mews opened the door of the building to swoop in and peck the cloaked figure out of their hooded garments only to finally reveal a familiar looking face...</span> Mr.Mewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15863579888103756215noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8863582700494106094.post-75230216933939191832011-03-02T14:45:00.000-08:002011-03-02T14:45:00.122-08:00An Angry Producer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNI64kGdV17BfJlzPdFVU3CRzWj79ZE-Iek2_zGc9oH7wxZswBRcddU2wDDkDsUcX6SoRmBS9tTPUY85u-qcDY-j0Fk04vGUyuoNcqeTxDiCnUrMzdn29vfHp8cnQq3yfYOlwcgVXwus2-/s1600/img_0035.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNI64kGdV17BfJlzPdFVU3CRzWj79ZE-Iek2_zGc9oH7wxZswBRcddU2wDDkDsUcX6SoRmBS9tTPUY85u-qcDY-j0Fk04vGUyuoNcqeTxDiCnUrMzdn29vfHp8cnQq3yfYOlwcgVXwus2-/s320/img_0035.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;">"I'm sure I know who's behind all this blackmailing crap," Scarlett White said as she dug around inside of her massive leather purse. "It's Jon Lenin-I'm sure of it-or one of his lefty minions. They've staged so many protests outside of KPX it's not even funny. There was another one just last week-about thirty unemployed wack-jobs with nothing better to do than protest the fact that McBain said that Senator Strawberry would be better off barefoot and pregnant than legislating for constituents. It was a joke-man, can't anyone take a freakin' joke any more? McBain's a sexist, McBain's a racist-it's all we hear Mews." Scarlett White pulled out a tube of lipstick and reapplied her Cherry Bomb. "The reality is that McBain's producer is none other than moi, a female and his screener's a black man. It drives me nuts Mews-and now he's being blackmailed? Unreal. Nobody can take controversy anymore, debate is over unless you're prepared for a thousand lawsuits and an internet smear campaign that makes the Civil War look like a sewing bee." Mews was waiting for a pause in conversation but Scarlett White presumably did not breath when she talked. "You know Mews, I wouldn't be surprised if this Fern Butterfield chick is behind the whole thing. I bet Jon Lenin hired her to be McBain's girlfriend just to get those photos in the first place!" </span>Mr.Mewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15863579888103756215noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8863582700494106094.post-36356766775050657312011-03-01T16:04:00.000-08:002011-03-01T16:04:06.475-08:00A Chat with the Producer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVyVixUQWVxZpbAwQazTId4QLWbFYzhLOxqd6gF7N8qbYsk_bitsI_BQNtodDAAwVYIb4MksPPGLBMyNUYjyqwXK_4khm_pwABbNsCe2_xKBby9vB1sE7eq9rTMbmeV53uN_UbsCJqH2kO/s1600/img_0037.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVyVixUQWVxZpbAwQazTId4QLWbFYzhLOxqd6gF7N8qbYsk_bitsI_BQNtodDAAwVYIb4MksPPGLBMyNUYjyqwXK_4khm_pwABbNsCe2_xKBby9vB1sE7eq9rTMbmeV53uN_UbsCJqH2kO/s320/img_0037.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;">"Mr Mews, hi, Scarlett White. Yes, nice to meet you too. No tea for me-you know I really don't have a lot of time-I'm really busy these days and with Regis having basically a mental breakdown every day-well, I've got my hands full. The faster you can crack this case the better dude cuz I can't afford to lose my most popular DJ."</span>Mr.Mewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15863579888103756215noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8863582700494106094.post-66167022869129345732011-02-28T13:33:00.000-08:002011-02-28T13:33:39.263-08:00How to Deal With a Bully<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsNME0S9-EDGYE8c-rS_w8ZI4yOr2-WC4F5bxln6OUhaiu0LZCaAHhHQN6BFnF7CvK1AvWZex_NQ8dYDRdgbf89dPAtiQIu7ud1DpaGPd2P3ZldkS5p7VhKTWnCQEQoM3RGeRiP40ZW-sK/s1600/mews+and+quig+anxious.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsNME0S9-EDGYE8c-rS_w8ZI4yOr2-WC4F5bxln6OUhaiu0LZCaAHhHQN6BFnF7CvK1AvWZex_NQ8dYDRdgbf89dPAtiQIu7ud1DpaGPd2P3ZldkS5p7VhKTWnCQEQoM3RGeRiP40ZW-sK/s320/mews+and+quig+anxious.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;">"Any idea who might have attacked McBain Mr Mews?" Quigley asked. Mews shook his head.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"No, but McBain did give me a lead however-he said that right before he went down he thought that he heard a woman's voice."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Do you think the attacker was female Mews?"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"It's a distinct possibility. Now whether this attack has anything to do with the larger case at hand-well, I'm not sure."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"So what's next Mews?"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"More suspect interviews Quigley. We shall stay focused and not get distracted by stalkers and attackers-if what they want is for us to drop the case-well, they aren't going to get that. There is nothing I dislike more than being bullied and harassed," Mews said sternly.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Very well, let's get on with things. Who's next on the suspect list my friend?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Looks like I've got a lunch date with McBain's producer-a Ms Scarlett White."</span>Mr.Mewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15863579888103756215noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8863582700494106094.post-2603652224000436972011-02-25T16:03:00.000-08:002011-02-25T16:03:16.678-08:00Attacked!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbAkJ6FBQvMGmxK7pjVPGTGpVBXuIA7hf-1dZlVihKB_Ga2L56ryC35Gh4603sk23eHP0Yd1gVHy_sythys2eqh7yJGxwZuQxrCNbGP1jwRkEGbL4qFEFX9hxXV0XlL9mcPLi0j8vdqEHJ/s1600/img_9818.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbAkJ6FBQvMGmxK7pjVPGTGpVBXuIA7hf-1dZlVihKB_Ga2L56ryC35Gh4603sk23eHP0Yd1gVHy_sythys2eqh7yJGxwZuQxrCNbGP1jwRkEGbL4qFEFX9hxXV0XlL9mcPLi0j8vdqEHJ/s320/img_9818.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;">Feeling dizzy and confused, Regis McBain awakes underneath a holly tree. "How did I get here?" he asks leaning forward. "Ouch!" The holly was prickly against his skin-but that was not his only discomfort. As he began to get oriented he realized that a throbbing pain was growing in his head-and when he reached to touch it he felt a warm gooey sensation-blood!</span> Mr.Mewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15863579888103756215noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8863582700494106094.post-43159562755767665202011-02-24T13:11:00.000-08:002011-02-24T13:33:02.960-08:00Lenin Speaks<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgalXI0y_sCIA1VbqG33tNsSjp_KplxAsvuKefG2dnQ_Nze1KeGNj1wbk7ApNfixTPEjHEEemkiF5V1xCukrjbA9hgOqG3R3x0r5MuzTUPBFYEt8gxKQGF6wcH8TRN0plUUBB3iHnKLWwel/s1600/jon+lenin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgalXI0y_sCIA1VbqG33tNsSjp_KplxAsvuKefG2dnQ_Nze1KeGNj1wbk7ApNfixTPEjHEEemkiF5V1xCukrjbA9hgOqG3R3x0r5MuzTUPBFYEt8gxKQGF6wcH8TRN0plUUBB3iHnKLWwel/s320/jon+lenin.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;">"Yes, I actually know that McBain is being blackmailed because he called me and directly accused me of blackmailing him. I said that I wasn't surprised, but that it wasn't me and that I wouldn't resort to criminal activity to get back at him," Jon Lenin said taking in a lungful of air through his nose.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Get back?" Mews asked.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Well, yes, for all the nasty comments he's made about me and my affiliations on the air over the years. I used to take his bait and I've spent too many hours on the phone arguing with McBain and getting migraines. I prefer to spend my time now editing my monthly newsletter and acting in my local community theatre group "Behind the Iron Curtain." You see Mews," Lenin said leaning back into his chair, "I've in a sense retired from the frontlines. I'm not interested in the tit for tat name calling that thrives in the political arena-on both sides. And I admit that McBain is very good at what he does-better than I ever was. You know we were best friends long ago."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Yes," Mews said. "Mr McBain said that you're friendship ended due to your political differences," Mews said stealing a sip of tea. Jon Lenin's eyes widened and he smiled.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Is that what he said?" Lenin laughed. "Always prone to hyperbole and half-truths that one. "No. It wasn't our politics that finally ended our friendship Mews. It's much simpler than that. You see he stole my girlfriend, Imelda." Mews coughed into his sleeve. "And then he married her."</span>Mr.Mewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15863579888103756215noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8863582700494106094.post-59201616589211761552011-02-23T16:58:00.000-08:002011-02-23T17:00:15.766-08:00Interview with a Socialist<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpdTQZTsfbZzJ4ji179rB51LK0uADrVAjPUSBcLmsHaKffXIf8CpuqfLNaWSeBkbUIkKnuDdnB3Zxq02CsbRN235a5Unn0_VyGJjAUjTtm1mMt1pd8z9K4BqoU8sSAFv71MBrntgM2VPF3/s1600/img_0007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpdTQZTsfbZzJ4ji179rB51LK0uADrVAjPUSBcLmsHaKffXIf8CpuqfLNaWSeBkbUIkKnuDdnB3Zxq02CsbRN235a5Unn0_VyGJjAUjTtm1mMt1pd8z9K4BqoU8sSAFv71MBrntgM2VPF3/s320/img_0007.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;">"Ah, Mr Lenin, good of you to come by," Mr Mews said closing the door. Jon Lenin stepped inside, nodded, and then waited for instructions. "Please take a seat. I'll have the coffee ready in just a moment," Mews said heading for the kitchen.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"No bother. I don't drink coffee," Lenin said with a gruff stern voice.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Tea then."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"I don't drink tea either. Both coffee and tea plantations contribute to the deforestation of the native ecosystems of their given region. I wish also to avoid contributing to the exploitation of the indigenous populations by multinational corporations and their stockholders."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"I see," Mews said looking through his cupboards. Well, how about a cup of hot water and lemon?"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"I'll take nothing thank you. I'm currently on a breatharian diet. Just a deep breath of pure air will suit me just fine-and it's a guilt free pleasure. Now, please tell of your business with me Mr Mews. I'm guessing this has something to do with Regis McBain?"</span>Mr.Mewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15863579888103756215noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8863582700494106094.post-4876114514532646582011-02-22T18:59:00.000-08:002011-02-22T18:59:10.585-08:00Mr Mews Has a Tail<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2yrBQfP7bIcZfZGnpZ6fyPdt83nK95abFiT8A6x9o6l_lYtdXcg3wc8wgFf57igNgOwssgzLqSX1lFHQWnxdKrt-j2mH2hzjCH_Y_3MdIL0IxqXZ6h80VCmh6E2K_DbRoIn3lWdoLyEYm/s1600/dsc01868.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2yrBQfP7bIcZfZGnpZ6fyPdt83nK95abFiT8A6x9o6l_lYtdXcg3wc8wgFf57igNgOwssgzLqSX1lFHQWnxdKrt-j2mH2hzjCH_Y_3MdIL0IxqXZ6h80VCmh6E2K_DbRoIn3lWdoLyEYm/s320/dsc01868.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;">"Hello? Is someone there?" Mr Mews asked. A shadow moved and then disappeared in the hallway near his door. Mews walked quietly down the hall towards the fire escape where he saw a tall figure jumping to the ground. Mews picked up his pace but by the time he reached the bottom of the fire escape the figure had vanished. </span> Mr.Mewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15863579888103756215noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8863582700494106094.post-4395619980986651722011-02-21T17:31:00.000-08:002011-02-21T17:31:38.509-08:00Mr Mews Receives Mysterious Phone Calls<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxSsXEoqiWa5-SLjTDAo2Uc23mOeDrNj-HAluBvRfGQMxEqeJALMufA_1hOw5selluoH4vpXoXB3RYNUqgyY1JMLvtwEaKOPIBSiP9Z-8LwWtLVvFEnnbF1VV-1fsTpkaeaG_CDFkT9hHI/s1600/img_9757.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxSsXEoqiWa5-SLjTDAo2Uc23mOeDrNj-HAluBvRfGQMxEqeJALMufA_1hOw5selluoH4vpXoXB3RYNUqgyY1JMLvtwEaKOPIBSiP9Z-8LwWtLVvFEnnbF1VV-1fsTpkaeaG_CDFkT9hHI/s320/img_9757.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;">"How long has this been happening Mews? Hang ups? Heavy breathing? How bestial. How amateur! Any idea of who it might be?" Quigley asked these questions as he examined new spring colorization on his wing.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Just over the weekend. And no, I have no idea of who it might be. I'm assuming that it has something to do with the McBain case." Quigley nodded and focused his full attention on Mews.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Yes, but we know the dangers of assumption Mews. We shall wait until we have facts. Concrete, unwavering facts." Mews looked up and smiled.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Of course Quigs. I'm glad to see you focused and clear headed. I might say breaking up with Millicent has afforded you the presence of mind to think clearly again," Mews said lifting up his wine glass. "While I realize you're gearing up for the frenzy of spring, I must say I'm impressed you aren't letting those old instincts get the best of you."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"It's a constant struggle between mind and body Mews, as you know. May the rational and enlightened mind win every time." At this the two old friends nodded knowingly and clinked their glasses. </span>Mr.Mewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15863579888103756215noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8863582700494106094.post-25079099269310799242011-02-18T12:09:00.000-08:002011-02-18T12:09:39.500-08:00Imelda Speaks<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd5M4LemrSSiKPHDSmhbrsJDc6WbDF5gk3lSSW9SSkngsma7jNh24FsIF81UDrwE1tHHJNSLL2Argt8XxarALwCemj88IO_uGzjDrKIusVBu0ASf_CbnpZphidkvw_qpBxkK7DIg4siL1F/s1600/img_9898.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd5M4LemrSSiKPHDSmhbrsJDc6WbDF5gk3lSSW9SSkngsma7jNh24FsIF81UDrwE1tHHJNSLL2Argt8XxarALwCemj88IO_uGzjDrKIusVBu0ASf_CbnpZphidkvw_qpBxkK7DIg4siL1F/s320/img_9898.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;">"Look Mews, I know why you've asked me here. Regis is in trouble-ha, what's new? I'm here to tell you I know nothing of his latest issues. Regis has been nothing but trouble for me-he was married not to me but to his microphone-and when he wasn't working at the studio he was drinking and chasing waitresses at that dreadful bar near his work-The Hand Me Down. But I want nothing to do with him anymore. I can't stand that beast and I couldn't even stand to blackmail him." Mews nodded his head and Quigley jotted down some notes.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Does he still frequent this bar-The Hand Me Down?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Oh, I don't know, I'm sure he does. A malignant narcissist such as Regis needs to get his daily dose of not just Jack and Coke but of ego-stroking. Lord knows why, but Regis has a way of making people do back-flips for him. If you and Mr Quigley here would like me to accompany you to the bar I'd be happy to do so," Imelda McBain said flashing Quigley a lipstick-smeared smile</span>.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Thank you but no, that won't be necessary," Quigley said hopping off of his chair. We want to thank you for coming," Quigley said cutting off the conversation prematurely. </span>Mr.Mewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15863579888103756215noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8863582700494106094.post-58086959379323491882011-02-15T14:25:00.000-08:002011-02-15T14:25:26.216-08:00Meet Imelda Marcus McBain<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc47I8Y2IGV_95BKJKYRr4f0p32Wie3rsLPJdwCifAaC_EcEPpt8PGH-JGafUF8CFpIR1SjCiKGd8oqboVCIO2rLYp6TFeDi7KClHRzme276KRC0N8PDzx_ShVnxlVwTZ6fr8E0f5pdlBK/s1600/img_9896.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc47I8Y2IGV_95BKJKYRr4f0p32Wie3rsLPJdwCifAaC_EcEPpt8PGH-JGafUF8CFpIR1SjCiKGd8oqboVCIO2rLYp6TFeDi7KClHRzme276KRC0N8PDzx_ShVnxlVwTZ6fr8E0f5pdlBK/s320/img_9896.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;">"Well you have a lovely view," Imelda Marcus McBain said turning towards Mews. "Very quaint. It's a very quaint little place-much too small for my needs of course, but cute. Dollhouse cute," she said taking a seat on the couch near Quigley. She smiled and stroked her hair. As she eyed Quigley it caused him to slowly shrink away. "Your friend is cute Mews," she said her voice crackly and deep. "Such a little thing! But such wonderful colors. Imagine the hat I could make from those downy feathers!" Quigley gulped and hopped up out of his seat as Mews offered her a refill on her coffee.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"He is a handsome fellow," Mews said smiling at a frowning Quigley. "Now, Imelda-I may call you Imelda?"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Oh yes, of course Mr Mews," she said rearranging one of her necklaces. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"If we might get down to business-we have some questions about your ex-husband, Regis McBain." Imelda's face dropped and her expression immediately turned sour.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"If we must discuss such a wretched topic. Some husband he was! Left me high and dry without a dime to my name," she said as her neck jiggled. She lowered her voice. "I have to say if something bad has happened to him I'll be the first person to say he deserved it. That cad, he stole my youth!"</span>Mr.Mewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15863579888103756215noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8863582700494106094.post-43639162633592466812011-02-14T15:39:00.000-08:002011-02-14T15:39:52.241-08:00Mews is Unavailable For Calls<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbSwQV5rD_1y2uTXJDzTrs9XfKyCxoN0L3PyUj-ysuMye4N7P9iS0tOsQ0UMq-OaL9r7qAhxGDajosccHMs0KKXTxlfEapPVzG08W8hoX7_4PFqFsLhCdw0pwQEIE6EslusR6vqnGZu5v0/s1600/mewswinetable.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbSwQV5rD_1y2uTXJDzTrs9XfKyCxoN0L3PyUj-ysuMye4N7P9iS0tOsQ0UMq-OaL9r7qAhxGDajosccHMs0KKXTxlfEapPVzG08W8hoX7_4PFqFsLhCdw0pwQEIE6EslusR6vqnGZu5v0/s1600/mewswinetable.jpeg" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;">"That's strange," Quigley said hanging up his phone. "Mews hasn't answered my calls all day. Highly unlike Mews. I wonder if something's wrong," Quigley said hopping over to his window. "Perhaps I'll pay him a visit."</span>Mr.Mewshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15863579888103756215noreply@blogger.com6