Barnaby Buttercup, a man whose luck was usually akin to stepping in week-old gum, skipped down the street. He’d found a wallet! A fat, juicy, leather wallet overflowing with what looked like… hundreds! Barnaby’s eyes widened. This was it. His ticket to finally affording that inflatable T-Rex costume he’d been eyeing.
He opened the wallet cautiously. Credit cards! Driver’s license! Membership cards to… the “Association of Professional Mimes”? Okay, that was a bit weird. The driver’s license picture confirmed it: a pale man with heavily lined eyes and a silent scream plastered across his face. The name read: Pierre Pantomime.
Barnaby felt a twinge of guilt. He should return it. But that T-Rex costume…
He resolved to do the right thing. He found Pierre’s address and knocked on the door. It creaked open to reveal, you guessed it, Pierre. He was wearing striped everything and, predictably, not saying a word.
Barnaby held out the wallet. “I found this! Is it yours?”
Pierre nodded enthusiastically, miming profound gratitude. He patted his pockets, then his face contorted in silent horror. He frantically mimed searching, patting, and looking everywhere. Then, with dramatic flair, he pointed an accusing finger at Barnaby, mouthing the words, “Where is it?”
Barnaby was confused. “Where is what? I’m giving you back your wallet!”
Pierre shook his head vehemently, miming counting money, then his brow furrowed in suspicion. He held up ten fingers, then pointed at Barnaby again. Then he mimed disappointment.
“Ten dollars?” Barnaby asked. “You think I stole ten dollars from your wallet?”
Pierre nodded vigorously, relief flooding his face. He then mimed being broke.
Barnaby sighed. He reached into his own pocket, pulled out a ten-dollar bill, and handed it to Pierre. Pierre mimed overwhelming gratitude, then slammed the door in Barnaby’s face. As Barnaby walked away dejectedly, he heard Pierre yell from behind the closed door, “Woohoo! Now I can afford my invisible car wash!”…PLOT TWIST!
