Jim and Grover: Private Agents for the Bizarre-A Web Periodical Story

Agent Jim Grublin sat with his legs propped up unto a creaky old wooden desk, which occasionally made long creaking moans as if it would split at any moment. Jim was partially concealed by the front page of the "Small Town Weekly."

Grover, Jim's longtime partner, laid down in front of the desk on an oval mat with yellow-to-green egg pattern.

"Hey Grover, the local ugly dog contest is now under way. It says here there is a two-headed dog that can bark and blow raspberries in time to Beethoven's fifth!"

"Why can't I ever go again," growled Grover. "I'm certain that was a rat I ate, you know, the one that kept saying 'Yo quiero Taco Bell'?"

"Hey, at least Chihuahua's don't always win anymore! Owner's are too scared to bring them now! Besides, the judges don't seem to like a dog who can back talk."

Grover was previously like any other bulldog, although with distinctly exaggerated canines that bulged up over his upper lips profusely, previously making him one of the most popular show dogs. But, Jim volunteered Grover in the name of science for $50 and Grover couldn't stop chatting since.

"So, could you in any way try to explain what happened to you?" Jim inquired.

"What, am I supposed to know scientific jargon or something? They said something about making the world’s first 'smart dog,' whatever that is supposed to mean.”

“I see that they succeeded. “

“Wait, I think I’ve heard of this thing called sarcasm, is that what you just did?”

“Oh sure, I’m sarcastic pretty much all the time.”

While Grover tried to process that sentence, the apartment buzzer rang. Jim pushed the speaker button on his desk. “Grublin and Grover: Private Agents, who is it?”

“K-Kimberly Buttons”, said a tremulous voice. “A-are you available?”

“Please hold. Grover, what’s our schedule like right now?”

“We have a schedule?”

“You know, the random assortment of things we do at any given moment!”

“Oh yeah! Seems clear to me!”

“Come right on up, Kim.”

Twenty minutes later, the Kleenex box was running low as a flood of tears and rambling sentences continued.

“You see..I-I just don’t have any idea where I could have left it. I think someone must have…(mournful wail).

“Ma’am, I think it would be very helpful to us if you would tell us just what it is your missing.”

“Well, I am a teacher, and I’ve kept the very same lesson plans my great grandmother would use when she taught.”

“Really, what level do you teach?”

“1^st Grade.”

“ Hey, you could teach Grover a few things!”

“What do you mean?”

“Speak, boy!”

“Hi, there!”

“Oh my goodness!” exclaimed the woman. “How does it…uh..I mean why does..I..

“Long story, don’t wanna bore you. Now what about your grandmother’s lessons.”

“ Well,” said the woman, “Yesterday morning I went to look for the week’s lesson in my office archives and found that every single one of them was gone.”

“Very odd. Are you sure it wasn’t just some janitor’s cleaning project or do you have reason to believe it was stolen?”

“Well, I have no idea where they are, but I also don’t know who in the world would want to steal sixty year old arithmetic lessons.”

“Wait, you are a math teacher?”

“Well, I teach about everything to my students, but it’s my great grandmother’s lessons I use to teach math. They just flow so well. Almost all my students pass math with flying colors.”

“Well, I certainly am not sure what to make of it. What do you say Grover?”

“What’s math?”

“Never mind. Well Ms. Buttons, I think that we should have a look at your office. Grover has a lot to learn, but if anyone was in your office he’ll be sure to sniff him out.