Written by armfeetandtoe

Saturday, 22 January 2011


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image for Shylock Humes: The Hound of the Basketvills Part 3 Graves tries to fix the satnavvy

Shylock sent his friend and companion, Dr. Flotsum, a telegram. The message arrived tied to a brick that crashed through his lounge window, and struck Flotsum on the head.

"Ow fuck!". He cried.

"Cut backs!". Shouted the messenger boy as he rode off.

Flotsum opened the note. come quickly. It read.

"How does he know these things", thought Flotsum.

Several hours later, Flotsum arrived at Basketvill mansion.

In the drawing room, Shylock and Flotsum made plans to find the murderer of Lord Basketvills brother.

"We must go to the moor, Flotsum, and find the hideout of this savage and crazed madman". Said Shylock.

"I suppose this means at night, while the wind is blowing, its raining and theres scary music playing". Stated Flotsum.

"No, Flotsum, this is a book, not a film, and it would take too long to write in the sound effects and the special FX, so we will go in the morning".

The following morning, Shylock, Flotsum and Graves the Butler met in the courtyard. Three fine horses had been made ready for them. The men rode out into the hustle and bustle of a victorian country lane. "This saddle is very uncomfortable serd", said Graves, as his head bounced off the cobbles.

"I deduce your saddle is on the wrong way round", Stated Shylock, as he fell off his horse.

"Thank yude serd" said Graves, as he mouted his ride.

"What a detective", sighed Flotsum.

The party rode for five miles until they realised they were lost. Shylock turned to Graves.

"This is your fault, you told us you knew the way"

"I'm sorry serd", Pleaded Graves. "It der satnavvy, ders nowhere to plug it in an der batteries is dead".

"Never mind Graves, I will ask one of the locals".

Shylock stopped a local. "Excuse me, can you give us direction to the village and Basketvill moor?"

"Arrgh", The man replied.

"Well?" Shouted Shylock.

"Well wot?". Answered the Local.

"Can you give us directions?"

"Arrgh" Replied the local.

"Go on then cunt!" Screamed Flotsum.

The local removed his straw hat. "Right, turnibole leftit throkum, entry thrum on the thorkus, messin cornerpolt an weedly over span brid yelldiho. Taken forkus. five minus on the renty ho and dorkis housi mole."

Shylock shook his head. "No, didnt quite get that"

"E says turn left serd". Said Graves.

"Just as I thought", Replied Shylock.

"We must stay at the Inn Shylock", Stated Flotsum. "its gettin late and this chapter is getting too long".

"Your right Flotsum!", shouted Shylock. "Lets go!".

The three men made there way to the village inn.

Will they find the killer? Will this fuckin story ever end? Find out in the next chapter.

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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