I’d say:
Along with your cute math, why don’t you explain your logic?
I’d say:
Your detective skills suck, Detective. I know because I went to detective school where I graduated with a “D minus.” They taught me to keep two loaded magnums in my purse. One loaded with booze and the other with bullets. That’s why I have five slugs in me: four are bourbon and one is a .44.
The minus on the “D” came from breaking a cardinal rule: never mix your booze with bullets. I was lucky it was only a minus: others have had to do “Hail Marys” for breaking cardinal rules. they were really F'd. Even with my “D minus” I’m an OK private eye. I get a couple of cases a month and they pay a couple of monthly bills –one from my probation officer and the other from my bookie.
When I socialize with my fellow chimps, it’s a banana daiquiri, when I’m on a case, it’s a bourbon on the rocks. I’m on my sixth case now; I solved and finished the last five cases. Every bottle that isn’t broken is polished and displayed on my trophy shelf. These trophies are part of my pride, but not my joy –empty bottles always seem to lack joy.
This morning, while enjoying the quiet night watches with Bogart, my cat, someone kicked my door open and barged in. It was a wanabe detective. He needed certification for his private díck license. He presented his credentials and the paperwork for his current case. He started to show my his private díck, but I told him to zip it. I thought this might be a hard case, but as poor as I am at math, a quick perusal still told me all I needed to know.
I asked him, “Did you take a harsh laxative today?” He took too long to answer, so I continued, “I’d say: you did. Unless you have a better reason for this cráp that makes you look like a third-rate mathematician and a fourth-rate detective.”
My cat and I are still waiting for his reply. . . .