HOME | DD

Description
     Mister John D. Buckley owned a modest bakery-slash-private investigator’s office on 31st street. This building’s main floor was its bakery then the floor above that was where Mr. Buckley lived and worked as a private investigator. The third, forth, and basement levels were rented out.

     On Thursday, his least favorite day of the week, Mr. Buckley had his alarm set for seven o’clock in the morning but, like almost every other Thursday, it didn’t go off. This was one of the obvious reasons he hated Thursdays. As his eyes sternly opened and his plump body rolled over he quickly realized, like every other Thursday morning, he overslept. His thoughts proceeded as such:

     9:17… damn! I missed the shipment this morning and I missed opening time and I missed the lovely Jane Higgs… damn! I don’t have enough time to open before the ten o’clock rush… damn! I suppose sitting in bed won’t help any.

     He sprang his covers off and spun out of bed. After realizing that time was moving much faster today he threw his head under the sink and then attempted to pick out his clothes.

     Okay, okay, a checkered shirt would look very nice with my khaki shorts but, then again, it is rather cool downstairs so some pants might better suit that. Then I can’t wear that great, checkered shirt and I may have to settle for the plain green one. But now that I think about it, I do have to open quicker then usual and if I get flour all over me I don’t want it to be on my nicest clothes… what am I talking about…

     Mr. Buckley decided he was just wasting more time so he threw on the pants and a blue t-shirt and was on his way. A knock at the door came right as he reached for it to leave.

     Could there be a worse time!

     George from the forth floor was at Mr. Buckley’s door to ask a question regarding his leaky pipe.

     “Hey there, Mr. Buckley! I tried to take a shower this morning and no water came out. I figured there must be, like, a huge leak somewhere or somethin’ of the sort so I thought maybe you could have a look see. How about it?”

     Stupid guy… probably forgot to twist the damn knobs.

     “Sorry, George, but I am already backed up and late for my opening.”

     “Right, well, if you get some time.”

     “Sure.”

     Not…

     Mr. Buckley left his front stoop and closed the door behind him. He was walking down to the bakery when Jane Higgs, who lives right above his floor, intercepted him. A pretty thing she was and he would do anything for just a little acknowledgement from her.

     Tight pants…

     “Mr. Buckley, I am running short on money right now and don’t have enough for rent. Would you mind if it came a few weeks late?”

     Tube top…

     “Uh… ahem! Sure there, Jane. Wh-whatever you want.”

     Boobs…

     “Thanks!”

      Thong…

     After watching Jane leave he wiped the drool off the corner of his mouth and quickly ran down stairs to open shop. He flipped the sign, opened the register, and stuck some dough in the oven when a huge rush of people came in.

     Damn! Too… little… time…

     The next morning, a Friday and a generally good day of the week, his alarm went off at five o’clock rather the seven.

     That is it! I need a new clock… every Thursday I am late and every Friday I am early! Will there ever be a perfect time? Now that I have the time, though, I mine as well start baking and get a good batch in before I open.

     And so Mr. Buckley did just that. Well, in his defense, he really tried. Again, on his way down to the shop, he was interrupted. The basement level renter came to him: a taller, thinner, longhaired, mid-twenties man who rarely showered.

     “Hey man! I need your help with my door. It won’t close or somethin’. Would you check it out for me?”

     “I seem to be well on time so I don’t see why not.”

     “Sweet!”

     Mr. Buckley followed him down to his doorway where the door was held ajar by a piece of wood stuck at the top.

     Mr. Buckley removed the plank and the door closed.

     “I didn’t see that up there, man! Thanks!”

     “No problem.”

     Hippie…

     With all the time in the world, he opened shop early and baked a few extra batches of his famous cookies. The ones Jane adores. He sat on his stool and watched the people go by. He enjoyed looking at the odd clothes they wore and the uncanny looks on their faces. He obviously had too much time on his hands. A young, pristine male entered the shop and Mr. Buckley was there to greet him.

     Fine looking gentleman. I believe I was supposed to be expecting a man such as him. Yes, that’s right…

     A few weeks ago, Mr. Buckley answered the phone to a Mr. Jackson who wished to use Mr. Buckley’s services as a private detective to catch the man’s wife cheating.

     He must be the man. I shall firmly greet him.

     “Hello!”

     “Oh… hello. I have come to buy a few loaves of bread, your freshest if possible.”

     “Ah… I see what you mean,” Mr. Buckley said, tapping his finger on his nose and winking.

     “Yes… uh… bread.”

     ‘Bread’ must be his secret code word for “pictures-of-wife-and-other-male”. I’ll play along…

     “They are upstairs, I’ll go grab the loooaves.” Wink.

     “Why do you keep loaves upstairs? Here… those ones look perfectly fine. I’ll take those two.”

     “I have more then two, my dear fellow! I have over fifty if you wish to see them.”

     Two… who does he think I am, an amateur private detective?

     “Nope. Two will do.”

     “Are you Mr. Jackson?”

     “Who? No…”

     Damn.

     “Right! Here is your bread then.”

     This is what happens when I have way too much time on my hands… I get loony!

     Finally, Saturday morning came and the alarm chimed at exactly seven o’clock AM.

     Ah! Two hours until opening. The perfect amount of time to take a shower, choose my clothing wisely, and bake a few loaves before I open shop. Two hours is also too little time to fix anyone’s pipes or close anyone’s doors. Two hours is just enough time to accidentally walk in on Jane changing because I happen to know her TV is broken and I happen to have a key and a few extra minutes. Two hours is the perfect amount of time…

Description
     Mister John D. Buckley owned a modest bakery-slash-private investigator’s office on 31st street. This building’s main floor was its bakery then the floor above that was where Mr. Buckley lived and worked as a private investigator. The third, forth, and basement levels were rented out.

     On Thursday, his least favorite day of the week, Mr. Buckley had his alarm set for seven o’clock in the morning but, like almost every other Thursday, it didn’t go off. This was one of the obvious reasons he hated Thursdays. As his eyes sternly opened and his plump body rolled over he quickly realized, like every other Thursday morning, he overslept. His thoughts proceeded as such:

     9:17… damn! I missed the shipment this morning and I missed opening time and I missed the lovely Jane Higgs… damn! I don’t have enough time to open before the ten o’clock rush… damn! I suppose sitting in bed won’t help any.

     He sprang his covers off and spun out of bed. After realizing that time was moving much faster today he threw his head under the sink and then attempted to pick out his clothes.

     Okay, okay, a checkered shirt would look very nice with my khaki shorts but, then again, it is rather cool downstairs so some pants might better suit that. Then I can’t wear that great, checkered shirt and I may have to settle for the plain green one. But now that I think about it, I do have to open quicker then usual and if I get flour all over me I don’t want it to be on my nicest clothes… what am I talking about…

     Mr. Buckley decided he was just wasting more time so he threw on the pants and a blue t-shirt and was on his way. A knock at the door came right as he reached for it to leave.

     Could there be a worse time!

     George from the forth floor was at Mr. Buckley’s door to ask a question regarding his leaky pipe.

     “Hey there, Mr. Buckley! I tried to take a shower this morning and no water came out. I figured there must be, like, a huge leak somewhere or somethin’ of the sort so I thought maybe you could have a look see. How about it?”

     Stupid guy… probably forgot to twist the damn knobs.

     “Sorry, George, but I am already backed up and late for my opening.”

     “Right, well, if you get some time.”

     “Sure.”

     Not…

     Mr. Buckley left his front stoop and closed the door behind him. He was walking down to the bakery when Jane Higgs, who lives right above his floor, intercepted him. A pretty thing she was and he would do anything for just a little acknowledgement from her.

     Tight pants…

     “Mr. Buckley, I am running short on money right now and don’t have enough for rent. Would you mind if it came a few weeks late?”

     Tube top…

     “Uh… ahem! Sure there, Jane. Wh-whatever you want.”

     Boobs…

     “Thanks!”

      Thong…

     After watching Jane leave he wiped the drool off the corner of his mouth and quickly ran down stairs to open shop. He flipped the sign, opened the register, and stuck some dough in the oven when a huge rush of people came in.

     Damn! Too… little… time…

     The next morning, a Friday and a generally good day of the week, his alarm went off at five o’clock rather the seven.

     That is it! I need a new clock… every Thursday I am late and every Friday I am early! Will there ever be a perfect time? Now that I have the time, though, I mine as well start baking and get a good batch in before I open.

     And so Mr. Buckley did just that. Well, in his defense, he really tried. Again, on his way down to the shop, he was interrupted. The basement level renter came to him: a taller, thinner, longhaired, mid-twenties man who rarely showered.

     “Hey man! I need your help with my door. It won’t close or somethin’. Would you check it out for me?”

     “I seem to be well on time so I don’t see why not.”

     “Sweet!”

     Mr. Buckley followed him down to his doorway where the door was held ajar by a piece of wood stuck at the top.

     Mr. Buckley removed the plank and the door closed.

     “I didn’t see that up there, man! Thanks!”

     “No problem.”

     Hippie…

     With all the time in the world, he opened shop early and baked a few extra batches of his famous cookies. The ones Jane adores. He sat on his stool and watched the people go by. He enjoyed looking at the odd clothes they wore and the uncanny looks on their faces. He obviously had too much time on his hands. A young, pristine male entered the shop and Mr. Buckley was there to greet him.

     Fine looking gentleman. I believe I was supposed to be expecting a man such as him. Yes, that’s right…

     A few weeks ago, Mr. Buckley answered the phone to a Mr. Jackson who wished to use Mr. Buckley’s services as a private detective to catch the man’s wife cheating.

     He must be the man. I shall firmly greet him.

     “Hello!”

     “Oh… hello. I have come to buy a few loaves of bread, your freshest if possible.”

     “Ah… I see what you mean,” Mr. Buckley said, tapping his finger on his nose and winking.

     “Yes… uh… bread.”

     ‘Bread’ must be his secret code word for “pictures-of-wife-and-other-male”. I’ll play along…

     “They are upstairs, I’ll go grab the loooaves.” Wink.

     “Why do you keep loaves upstairs? Here… those ones look perfectly fine. I’ll take those two.”

     “I have more then two, my dear fellow! I have over fifty if you wish to see them.”

     Two… who does he think I am, an amateur private detective?

     “Nope. Two will do.”

     “Are you Mr. Jackson?”

     “Who? No…”

     Damn.

     “Right! Here is your bread then.”

     This is what happens when I have way too much time on my hands… I get loony!

     Finally, Saturday morning came and the alarm chimed at exactly seven o’clock AM.

     Ah! Two hours until opening. The perfect amount of time to take a shower, choose my clothing wisely, and bake a few loaves before I open shop. Two hours is also too little time to fix anyone’s pipes or close anyone’s doors. Two hours is just enough time to accidentally walk in on Jane changing because I happen to know her TV is broken and I happen to have a key and a few extra minutes. Two hours is the perfect amount of time…