Greg Gumshoe: Private Eye - Chapter 1

First prompt.
For each item you create on WDC, you may pick up to three genres. For this round of this contest one of the genres has to be  {c:/blue}ROMANCE/LOVE . In this first chapter you have to use the word five, or fifth, or anything that equals the meaning of five. And you have to include something I can see in nature. That can be anything you want.
Make the prompt word bold using these pieces of WritingML and , or write in ALL CAPITALS, or use color. Just give me a way to "see" the prompt parts easily.
Due on or before 02/02/10 11:59PM WDC time.

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Greg Gumshoe: Private Eye
Chapter 1: "Getting Gregarious"

By Indelibleink

Gregarious J. Gumshoe stared out his office window at the green fields, blue skies, and the babbling brook that sewed a meandering stitch of beauty through the wild meadow that lay before him. He gazed at the mother kangaroo looking protectively down at her offspring, secure in her pouch. Ah...the wonders of nature!

The sound of squealing car tires and gunshots tore Greg's attention from his favorite billboard (which advertised a getaway to Australia), and quickly returned him to the realities of living in a large crime-riddled U.S. city. He tore the wrapper off of a Fifth Avenue candy bar, sat down in his tattered office chair, and proceeded to consume his breakfast.

Greg rose from his chair, and walked back over to the window where his coffee maker eagerly awaited the dispensing of today's initial brew. As he poured a cup of bean, his gaze drifted over the collection of photos and awards that adorned three entire shelves of his bookcase. His eyes stopped abruptly when he saw one of the last photos of Molly. Dearest Molly. A match made in heaven. The beautiful eyes. The sculptured cheekbones. The woebegone expression. A solitary tear fell from Greg's cheek right into his Maxwell House. Ker-plunk! God, how I miss that dog! Greg took a sip of what had become somewhat-salty java, but he didn't notice. He just didn't care anymore.

His watery sight-line made it over to the photo of Julie. Ah...my lovely Julie. Greg missed Julie, too. She was a heck of a wife. Maybe he didn't miss Julie quite as much as he missed Molly, but he missed her quite a bit. Actually, if you were to convert how much I missed her into 'dog years' it would probably be right up there with Molly. Same ballpark, anyway.  In a few weeks it would have been 3 years since Julie departed this life, and Greg was still having a hard time adjusting. He never really did get the cooking thing down, and that's where Julie really had no equal. Nobody could cook like Julie. If there was anybody who make a spread like Julie, Greg sure hadn't run into him or her just yet. Of course, that's why Julie wasn't of this earth any more. Julie was such a good cook that she couldn't stop eating! Greg gazed at the photo of Julie accepting the "We Love A Real Challenge" award from the local Jennie Craig. Greg laughed to himself as he recalled how the folks there thought they would do a "Valerie Bertinelli" job on Julie. Greg's eyes then drifted to the right, where Julie was accepting the "Okay, We Give Up" award from Jennie Craig. Julie had said she wanted the body of a celebrity, like Marie Osmond. Well, she got half of the dream; she did get the body of a celebrity - it's just that the celebrity was Kirstie Allie!

The thing was, Greg was always able to look beyond Julie's weight issues. He wasn't one of those superficial, "I-married-a-babe-just-because-she's-hot" kind of guys, (mostly because he couldn't find a hot babe that would have him), but Greg loved Julie for what she brought to the table. Mostly food. And believe-you-me, nobody cried harder than Greg the day Julie went to that big buffet in the sky, after she choked to death on a meatball. It is often written that there is "always a silver lining" to a tragic occurrence, and that truism was never reinforced better than the day Julie died. She had made a really huge spaghetti and meatball dinner; which Greg just threw in the fridge and reheated for the after-funeral dinner. Whoever said 'The Lord works in mysterious ways' was right on!

Greg's quiet little sojourn down memory lane was interrupted by the sound of someone slowly turning the knob of his office door. Greg hit the deck with the grace of a butterfly landing upon a flower. Well, actually, it might have been that graceful if he had set his coffee cup down first prior to diving. In reality, the sound of his coffee cup exploding into a million pieces was loud enough to wake all the residents of a retirement community three blocks away.

Laying prone on the floor, and with a wet shirt smelling like he was "good to the last drop," Greg waited as the door to his office opened ever so slowly...

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words: 736