Case #02: Nine Out Of Nine Dogs Are Dogs
Taming of the 22nd Floor ScrewballLaundry day meant stealing the rent office’s wifi to watch Brooklyn Nine-Nine. Who should Taehyung meet while his whites cycled but Anna: Joker-reincarnate. He smiled. She smiled back. Etiquette was key in killing with kindness.
Contrary to her adopted philosophy, she had plenty of schemes. One of which involved the “Lost Dog” poster she hung above the washing machine. There were multiple things wrong with it: 1) the bolded “LOST DOG” took up three-quarters of the poster; 2) the physical description read only “dog;” 3) the reward reached Hitchcock and Scully levels of ridiculous.
Itching to say something, he couldn’t hold back commenting, “It’d help if you included a picture.”
“That would ruin the surprise,” she reasoned. “I’ve never had a dog, so I’m trying to do this right.”
So not only was she non-discriminately dog-fishing, but “Reward: 5 high-fives,” he pointed out.
“Have you ever been accomplice to 5 consecutive high-fives?” she asked. He hadn’t. Touché. Terry wouldn’t like the sense she applied to her nonsense.
The washing machine dinged to a stop. She asked if he wanted her to hold the elevator. He regretfully declined the offer to spend 16 minutes and 55 seconds touring the building. Sure enough, as soon as she stepped on she became a button-pressing fiend.
“Remember: if you see a lost dog,” she yelled before the doors closed, “I called dibs!”
25-year-old Taehyung was still struggling to understand the enigma that was the human brain. Anna’s oddities introduced formulas they never reviewed in school. Surely she had a screw or two loose. He took a picture of her poster for future reference of the insane. What a way to learn her number.
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