I poured the drink into the mister’s glass. He picked it up without taking his eyes from his book, The Theory and Practice of Oligarchal Collectivism. My lip curled reflexively. The mister loved to pretend to be intelligent, what with the reading of complex political theory, but he could never quite grasp anything he read. It was a wonder he didn’t try to read them upside down.

Suddenly, there was a tapping, suddenly there was a rapping, a tapping at the mansion’s door. I opened the door, to reveal a stout man with a red tie.
“E-Excuse me sir, is this the House of Usher?”
“Why, yes it is. How may I help you?”
“I-I believe the head of the household has my stapler.”
“Your stapler?”
“Yes, yes, it’s my stapler you see, and he has it.”
“I believe I saw it in the cellar when I went to see the men in charge of our dolphin rehabilitation center. And if my memory serves me, they had written on your stapler a note which said ‘So long and thanks for all the fish.’ Quite peculiar.”
“M-May I have it back please?”