Chet The Dog

Posts Tagged ‘Thereby Hangs A Tail’

Beginnings

On Sundays we do beginnings, taking a look at the first few lines of all the Peter Abrahams books including those written under the Spencer Quinn moniker™ – mostly so we can use that word! Moniker! How about Thereby Hangs A Tail today? It’s second in the Chet and Bernie series, but the series can be read in any order. For example, let’s say you wanted to start with the latest, It’s A Wonderful Woof? Who’s going to stop you?

The perp looked around – what nasty little eyes he had! – and saw there was nowhere to go. We were in some kind of warehouse, big and shadowy, with a few grimy high-up windows and tall stacks of machine parts. I couldn’t remember how the warehouse fit in, exactly, or even what the whole case was all about; only knew beyond a doubt, from those nasty eyes and that sour end-of-the-line smell, a bit like those kosher pickles Bernie had with his BLT’s – I’d tried one; once was enough for the kosher pickles, although I always had time for a BLT – that this guy was the perp. I lunged forward and grabbed him by the pantleg. Case closed.

Tennis

Since a very entertaining US Open is going on – and this particular hacker is sidelined by his first ever encounter with tennis elbow – how about the tennis lesson scene from Thereby Hangs A Tail?

The tall blond guy took a ball from the bucket and hit it to Ganz. Ganz wore white shorts, had skinny legs like sticks. He swung his racquet and hit the ball back. The tall guy let it go by, took out another ball. “Brush up, Shermie, brush up. Spin on the ball, always spin on the ball.” He hit the ball over the net. Ganz swung, this time missing the ball completely. “Brush up but through, up but through, up but through,” said the tall guy, sending over another ball. Brush? I knew brushes, saw none around. Maybe tennis was tougher than it looked, but I didn’t worry about that because a ball came bouncing over in our direction – we were now beside the court – and I snatched it out of the air, and who wouldn’t have, the ball being right there practically saying, “Catch me.” And then – this part was a bit harder to understand – I was on the court, racing toward the net. Up and over: not much of a challenge, tennis nets turning out not to be very high, but still it felt so great, being airborne and all, that I kind of twisted around still up there, if you see what I mean, and landed facing back at the net, and the next thing I knew I was jumping over it again, from the other direction, and, yes! doing the spin move once more, and when I landed this time, somehow with two balls in my mouth now – how had that happened? – I –

“Chet!”

 

Tennis

Off to the tennis court this morning – reminding me of the tennis lesson scene in Thereby Hangs A Tail (from the Chet and Bernie series which can-be-read-in-any-order™):

The tall blond guy took a ball from the bucket and hit it to Ganz. Ganz wore white shorts, had skinny legs like sticks. He swung his racquet and hit the ball back. The tall guy let it go by, took out another ball. “Brush up, Shermie, brush up. Spin on the ball, always spin on the ball.” He hit the ball over the net. Ganz swung, this time missing the ball completely. “Brush up but through, up but through, up but through,” said the tall guy, sending over another ball. Brush? I knew brushes, saw none around. Maybe tennis was tougher than it looked, but I didn’t worry about that because a ball came bouncing over in our direction – we were now beside the court – and I snatched it out of the air, and who wouldn’t have, the ball being right there practically saying, “Catch me.” And then – this part was a bit harder to understand – I was on the court, racing toward the net. Up and over: not much of a challenge, tennis nets turning out not to be very high, but still it felt so great, being airborne and all, that I kind of twisted around still up there, if you see what I mean, and landed facing back at the net, and the next thing I knew I was jumping over it again, from the other direction, and, yes! doing the spin move once more, and when I landed this time, somehow with two balls in my mouth now – how had that happened? – I –

“Chet!”

Beginnings

On Sundays we do beginnings, taking a look at the first few lines of all the Peter Abrahams books including those written under the Spencer Quinn moniker – mostly so we can use that word! Moniker! How about Thereby Hangs A Tail today? It’s second in the Chet and Bernie series, but the series can be read in any order. For example, let’s say you wanted to start with Of Mutts and Men, the most recent? Who’s going to stop you? That’s the spirit!

The perp looked around – what nasty little eyes he had! – and saw there was nowhere to go. We were in some kind of warehouse, big and shadowy, with a few grimy high-up windows and tall stacks of machine parts. I couldn’t remember how the warehouse fit in, exactly, or even what the whole case was all about; only knew beyond a doubt, from those nasty eyes and that sour end-of-the-line smell, a bit like those kosher pickles Bernie had with his BLT’s – I’d tried one; once was enough for the kosher pickles, although I always had time for a BLT – that this guy was the perp. I lunged forward and grabbed him by the pantleg. Case closed.