A Walk Down the Aisle - Part 2 - A Craven Danger Mystery

Craven Danger knew he was having that dream again. That dream where Betty fletcher becomes his bride. But in past dreams it was always he who was doing the proposing.

Maybe this ain’t my dream at all, thought Craven. Maybe it’s Betty’s dream and I have no say in the matter. Just like in real life.

I’ll bet if an alarm clock went off about now, Betty would wake up and we’d both disappear like a couple a puffs a smoke.

So, sure, I’ll marry Betty. What the heck? It’s only a dream. And it’s not even mine. I won’t have ta do nothin’ but enjoy the ride until she decides ta wake up.

Look at her sittin’ over there like I ain’t wise ta what she’s dreamin’. I’ll bet if I went over there right now and planted a wet one on her kisser, she’d melt like a pat a butter on a warm, toasty muffin. Then a white stallion would appear, right here in the office. And suddenly I wouldn’t be wearin’ no double breasted pin-striped suit any more. I’d be dressed like one a them Prince Charmin’s that Betty’s always swoonin’ over at the movie theater. And she’d be dressed in a long velvet gown. A red one, too, ta match her long, pretty hair. Then I’d climb on my horse and pull Betty up on my lap, side-saddle like, so’s I could smooch her whenever I felt like it. And then the walls ta this crummy office would fall flat on their face and we’d find ourselves in a big field somewhere. Someplace where they had a castle or two on a hill. Nothin’ fancy, mind ya. A little three bedroom number. One for us and two for the kids. And maybe a chimney or two.

We’ll name the kids George and Veronica. What am I sayin’? Why stop at two? We’ll have a dozen! One for every month of the year. And we’d name them January, February, March, April and May, etc., etc., etc.

“A dozen?” said Betty.

“A dozen,” said Craven.

“Are ya nuts?”

“Only about you,” said Craven. “Hey! Wait a doggone minute! How is it ya listenin’ ta my thoughts? Whaddaya got? The leprosy or sometnin’?”

“That’s telepathy,” said Betty. “And no, I ain’t got it. Ya been talkin’ out loud the whole time.”

“Ya wouldn’t fool a guy, would ya, Betty?”

“Not a guy that’s gonna make me melt like a pat a butter on a warm, toasty muffin,” said Betty. “No foolin’”

Craven Danger rose from his desk and came around to where Betty was sitting. Only to realize he wasn’t wearin’ any pants.

“Where’s ya pants?” said Betty.

“Oh, geez,” said Craven. “I forgot. It’s laundry day. They're hangin’ out ta dry on the flagpole.”

“Well I ain’t marryin’ a guy in his shorts,” said Betty.

“They gotta be dry by now,” said Craven. “I’ll go get ‘em.”

Craven Danger opened the window and reached for his pants when he noticed the crowd assembling down in the street.

“Jumper!” someone shouted. “Someone call the cops!”

“No!” shouted another. “Call the fire department! They got ladders!”

“I ain’t gonna jump!” shouted Craven. “I’m just gettin’ my pants!”

“Not you!” shouted another. “The naked guy standing next to you on the ledge.”

Craven turned to his left and looked up.

“Hey, pal,” said the naked man. “How about loanin’ a guy a pair of pants. I’m freezin’.”