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|The Da Vinci Cube (standard:humor, 2860 words)|
|Author: Ian Hobson||Added: May 22 2006||Views/Reads: 2159/981||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|If you've read The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown, then you might make some sense of this. If not, best read something else.|
The Da Vinci Cube ©2006 Ian Hobson PROLOGUE Some poor sod gets shot in a French art gallery. CHAPTER ONE Rupert Tuckbot was working on his new novel when he was interrupted by someone knocking on his Paris hotel room door. As he got up and crossed the room, wondering who could be disturbing him at such a late hour, he stopped dead in his tracks as he realised that the caller had knocked five times. Five was a most significant number for Rupert, as five equilateral triangles arranged to make a five-pointed star also contained the shape of a pentagon, which just happened to be the same shape as the birthmark on his left buttock, which just happened to be an anagram of his surname. Fearing that this might be an omen, he continued to the door and, opening it cautiously, he came face to face with Inspector Cludo, the celebrated chief of a special multinational law-enforcement unit for Crimes Requiring Advanced Police-work. 'Yes,' said Rupert, wondering what business a C.R.A.P. police officer might have with him. 'Monsieur Tuckbot?' The Frenchman's English was heavily accented. 'Correct.' 'Inspector Cludo,' said Cludo with a forced smile. 'Would you be so kind as to come with me to the Tuileries?' Rupert looked puzzled. 'Why? Can't you go on your own?' For a moment Cludo looked equally puzzled. 'Ah, forgive my akzent,' he said as he took out his ID card and waved it in Rupert's face. 'I am an officer of du lur, and I wish for you to come wiz me to the Tuileries Gardens. Der is something I would like to show you; in de new art gallery.' CHAPTER TWO The Loofah, a brand-new modern art gallery situated within the Tuileries Gardens, was made entirely out of 9,999 squares of glass and shaped like a dildo. 'What do you make of it?' Cludo asked. He and Rupert were standing in the center of the art gallery looking at corpse that had obviously been arranged to look like a dead body. 'I think he's dead,' Rupert observed. 'Not the deceased,' Cludo said, pointing at the wall. 'The blood.' Strangely, the victim, who had been fatally shot, had used his own blood to paint a forty-foot mural containing a stylised image of the Mona Lisa doing a moony, together with the inscription: 10020030050010002000400080001600032000640001250002500005000001000000 SAINT WAIL ONE, OH LAME RIB TWO P.S. TAKE CARE OF MY CAT 'Beats me,' Rupert said. 'The whole thing's rather odd.' 'Odd! Cludo exclaimed. 'You don't know the half of it. The man didn't even have a cat.' 'Yes he did,' said a female voice. Inspector Cludo turned angrily towards Catherine Dupre, a junior, but utterly brilliant when it comes to code breaking and such like, police officer, who was striding down the gallery towards them. Her English was much better than her superior's. 'He was my estranged uncle and he was the new caretaker here, and he always called me Cat when I was little, and he liked to leave me puzzles and treasure hunts, and the numbers are obviously a reference to his favourite British television program 'Who Want's to be Click here to read the rest of this story (268 more lines)
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