I can't think of a name for this post

OK, I got the message, boring post. Only ONE person commented. I know I can't rhyme, and therefore am no poet. But I didn't think it was that bad... I do promise that I will never ever again post any poem I write. *everyone sighs in relief* Which shouldn't be hard, considering, I've only ever written 2 in my entire life that I can remember, the other one you don't want to hear. BUT...(yes, there's always a but..) that promise doesn't apply to something I've written that ISN'T poetry!*everyone groans again, I laugh evily*

Have any of you ever read The Encyclopedia Brown books? Encyclopedia is a 10 year old "boy detective" and really smart. One of those people who never forget anything. His Dad is police chief in their town, and Leroy (his real name) helps his Dad with unsolvable cases that he solves, usually during dinner. Encyclopedia also has his own detective agency in the family garage where he solves cases for the local kids with his sidekick Sally. There are two kids in town who are always trying to cheat his friends, Encyclopedia stops them of course. The books aren't brilliant works, but I used to really like them so I wrote a case. You are all VERY privileged, you get to read my one and ONLY finished piece of work. Enjoy!







The Case of the Rough Rider
Encyclopedia and Sally were sitting in Brown’s Detective Agency one afternoon in late August.
“Bugs haven’t been up to anything in nearly a week,” sighed Sally.
“Yeah,” agreed Encyclopedia, setting down The Spanish Life of Theodore Roosevelt, the book he was reading.
“With him not making trouble, nobody needs detectives.”
“Uh-oh,” murmured Sally under her breath. “Here comes your trouble.”
She pointed up the street. Lucy Fibbs was whizzing by on her bicycle.
“What’s wrong? Was Hambone stolen?” Sally called out.
Lucy lived on a farm. She loved animals, but pigs were her favorite. Hambone was Lucy’s prize pig. Lucy screeched to a halt.
“I hope not!” She cried, “I am going to be rich!!” dropping her bicycle on the sidewalk with a crash. “I could hire you full time for Twenty-Five Dollars an hour! Or a minute!!!!”
“Thanks,” said Sally.
“What did you do? Win the lottery?” asked Encyclopedia.
“I could sponsor the lottery with what Wilford said I will make,” Lucy cried excitingly.
“Who said?” Sally said sarcastically.
“Wilford,” replied Lucy meekly.
Encyclopedia sighed, “I should have known.”
Wilford Wiggins was a high school dropout and very lazy. He spent the day in bed dreaming up ways to cheat little kids out of their life savings, this must be his newest scheme.
“What’s Wilford up to this time?” queried Sally.
“I don’t know,” admitted Lucy, “All he said was to meet him at the dump with my money at five o’clock if I wanted to be rich.”
“I didn’t get an invitation,” Encyclopedia commented dryly.
“I’m not surprised, we’ve stopped his fast deals once too often,” returned Sally.
Lucy was looking troubled.
“I hope this isn’t a trick. Will you come with and tell me if Wilford is telling the truth? But, I will only be able to pay you twenty-five cents an hour.”
“We’ll come. Don’t worry,” Sally assured Lucy.
* * * * * * * * *
The three children arrived at the Dump in time. Wilford stood on a makeshift platform, next to a pile of tires.
“He’s wearing black,” whispered Sally, “and his eyes are red and puffy.”
“He didn’t look that way this morning,” Lucy pointed out.
Lucy turned to Fifi O’Brian. “Do you know what’s wrong with Wilford?”
“Uh-uh,” said Fifi. “Nobody does. Doesn’t he look like he’s been crying?” She sighed sympathetically.
Encyclopedia spied Bugs Meany and Spike Larson, one of his tigers, elbowing their way to the front of the crowd.
“What’s with the get up?” sneered Bugs. “Did you get a job as a’ undertaker?”
Spike and Bugs laughed and elbowed each other.

Wilford turned toward them, a sad look on his face.
“I am mourning the death of my great uncle,” Wilford said with a tragic air. He wiped away a tear that was sliding down his cheek and swallowed to regain his composure.
“My great Uncle, Wilford the First who is…” Wilford gulped, “was, 104”
Wilford stated the name and age proudly.
“He died of natural causes at his home in Texas, three days ago.” Wiford paused, as if unable to go on. He swallowed bravely and continued. “He was the last of Teddy Roosevelt’s Rough Riders.” Wilford sniffed, so did Lucy. “Some of my earliest memories are of him taking me on his knee to tell me about the. …Rough Riders and the charge of …(Gulp) San Juan Hill. He told me that while Teddy Roosevelt ….lived every year at New Years he would send him a …letter.”
Wilford was now openly sobbing, most of the girls were dabbing their eyes. Wilford straightened his back and began again.
“In his will he left to me the bundle of letters from Teddy Roosevelt. The Smithsonian Institute is interested in the letters and is willing to pay one thousand dollars for each letter.
A murmur ran through the crowd. “How can you prove you have these letters,” called out Sally.
“I have one right here,” replied Wilford with a smug face. “I‘ll read it to you.” Wilford took a piece of paper out of his pocket, opened it, cleared his throat and read:


The White House
January 1, 1905
Dear Wilford,
As promised I write you again. I hope the last year has been agreeable to you. How is your little nephew, Wilford?
As you have no doubt heard I have been elected in my own right to serve a term in the office of President. I will endeavor to serve the county we fought for to the best of my abilities. Speak quietly, but carry a big stick and you will go far.
I have been thinking a lot about the Rough Riders lately. The charge up San Juan Hill was unforgettable. I hear that a monument will be erected on San Juan Hill, Mexico commemorating the Rough Riders. The Mexicans obviously don’t hold a grudge against us.
I hope all is well.

Sincerely,
Theodore


Silence had fallen over the crowd of children.
Bugs called out, “What’s this have to do with us?”
“I need money,” cried Wilford despairingly. “I gave all the money I had to pay for the burial arrangements of my great uncle. Yet to get the money from the Smithsonian I have to be there in two days. The only way to get there quickly enough is to fly, and I don’t have enough money to pay for a plane ticket. If you, my loyal friends, help me I will give you 10 dollars for every 2 dollars you give me. I have 15 letters from Teddy Roosevelt. That is $15,000 right there that I can pay you back with a lot of interest. Loan me ten dollars and I will pay you back $20. But I can’t pay you till I get the money from the Smithsonian. Will you, my friends, help me buy my plane ticket?!
“Yes,” cried the enthusiastic children. They lined up to give Wilford their money.
“I wouldn’t help him,” spoke up Encyclopedia.
“Why not!” said Lucy. “He needs our help!”
“Because,” said Encyclopedia, “he made two mistakes.”


What Were Wilford’s Mistakes?



I'll post the solution tomorrow... Any Guesses?????????????

Since I like posting pictures here's one of me and Joe, Susie needed us to pose for a picture she was drawing...here's the result

Cheerio,

Lydia