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The Case of the Missing Marmalade
Visit the “A Bedtime Story” show website to submit your story ideas for a future episode!
Professor Quentin Quibble, a man whose spectacles perpetually perched halfway down his nose, surveyed the chaotic scene. His prized jar of triple-ginger marmalade, the one he’d been saving for a particularly momentous Tuesday, was gone. Vanished. Poof!
“This is most irregular,” he muttered to his pet hamster, Horace, who was currently attempting to stuff an entire sunflower seed into his cheek pouch. “A culinary crime of the highest order!”
His investigation began with the obvious suspect: Mrs. Higgins, his notoriously peckish neighbor. Professor Quibble knocked on her door, a stern look on his face that quickly dissolved when Mrs. Higgins answered with a cheerful, “Oh, hello, Professor! Lovely day, isn’t it?”
He stammered through his inquiry, but Mrs. Higgins, bless her cotton socks, looked genuinely bewildered. “Marmalade? Oh dear, I haven’t had marmalade in ages. Though, now that you mention it…” She trailed off, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Did you check under your hat?”
Professor Quibble patted his head. No marmalade. He thanked Mrs. Higgins and continued his search. He interrogated the milkman, who claimed he only dealt in dairy. He questioned the squirrels in the garden, who chattered back indignantly about their preference for nuts.
Just as Professor Quibble was about to give up, he noticed Horace acting rather suspiciously. The hamster’s cheeks were unusually plump, and he kept darting furtive glances at a small, lumpy mound of bedding in his cage.
With a sigh, Professor Quibble gently nudged the bedding aside. And there it was. The missing marmalade jar, nestled amongst Horace’s hoard of seeds and fluff. The tiny culprit was fast asleep, a sticky orange smear adorning his whiskers.
Professor Quibble couldn’t help but chuckle. “Oh, Horace,” he said, shaking his head. “You little rascal.” He carefully retrieved the jar, a little less full than before, and decided that perhaps a momentous Tuesday could arrive a little early.
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By Matthew MitchellVisit the “A Bedtime Story” show website to submit your story ideas for a future episode!
Professor Quentin Quibble, a man whose spectacles perpetually perched halfway down his nose, surveyed the chaotic scene. His prized jar of triple-ginger marmalade, the one he’d been saving for a particularly momentous Tuesday, was gone. Vanished. Poof!
“This is most irregular,” he muttered to his pet hamster, Horace, who was currently attempting to stuff an entire sunflower seed into his cheek pouch. “A culinary crime of the highest order!”
His investigation began with the obvious suspect: Mrs. Higgins, his notoriously peckish neighbor. Professor Quibble knocked on her door, a stern look on his face that quickly dissolved when Mrs. Higgins answered with a cheerful, “Oh, hello, Professor! Lovely day, isn’t it?”
He stammered through his inquiry, but Mrs. Higgins, bless her cotton socks, looked genuinely bewildered. “Marmalade? Oh dear, I haven’t had marmalade in ages. Though, now that you mention it…” She trailed off, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Did you check under your hat?”
Professor Quibble patted his head. No marmalade. He thanked Mrs. Higgins and continued his search. He interrogated the milkman, who claimed he only dealt in dairy. He questioned the squirrels in the garden, who chattered back indignantly about their preference for nuts.
Just as Professor Quibble was about to give up, he noticed Horace acting rather suspiciously. The hamster’s cheeks were unusually plump, and he kept darting furtive glances at a small, lumpy mound of bedding in his cage.
With a sigh, Professor Quibble gently nudged the bedding aside. And there it was. The missing marmalade jar, nestled amongst Horace’s hoard of seeds and fluff. The tiny culprit was fast asleep, a sticky orange smear adorning his whiskers.
Professor Quibble couldn’t help but chuckle. “Oh, Horace,” he said, shaking his head. “You little rascal.” He carefully retrieved the jar, a little less full than before, and decided that perhaps a momentous Tuesday could arrive a little early.