Satyanarayan Mohapatra, Bhubaneswar, 28 May 2924
In the quiet town of Sanctimonia, a mystery unfolds that would make Agatha Christie proud, if only it weren’t so laughably inept. The key to the sanctum’s treasury room, rumoured to hold enough bling to make a rapper blush, has gone missing. It’s a plot twist worthy of a telenovela, except the only drama here is the bureaucratic blame game.
Our first suspect, the Key Safe Keeper, Mr. Bumble, insists the key was securely tucked away in his sock drawer, right next to his lucky rabbit’s foot. “It’s not my fault,” he blubbers, “Keys have a mind of their own, you know. They get wanderlust.”
Next in the interrogation line is the town’s administration, a group so efficient they once debated for a week on the optimal placement of a new water fountain. Their spokesperson, Ms. Redtape, offers a masterclass in obfuscation. “The key is… somewhere,” she says with a vague wave of her hand, “We’re looking into it. Or under it. Or perhaps beside it. Rest assured, no stone will be left unturned, unless it’s the one the key is hiding under.”
But wait, there’s more! Enter the legal eagles, ready to swoop in and….well, mostly just flap their wings and squawk legalese. Judge Fuddy-Duddy, known for his snail-like pace and fondness for naps, has promised a thorough investigation, as soon as he finishes his crossword puzzle. “The law is a complex beast,” he yawns, “But justice will be served, eventually. Or maybe next Tuesday. We’ll see.”
Meanwhile, the townsfolk are going bonkers. Conspiracy theories abound, ranging from the plausible (the key was stolen by a disgruntled janitor with a penchant for Fabergé eggs) to the absurd (aliens disguised as garden gnomes made off with it during a late-night raid). The local bakery has even started selling “Key Lime Pie of Mystery,” a concoction so sugary it’s guaranteed to rot your teeth before any answers emerge. The town’s psychic, Madame Zelda, claims to have located the key in a parallel dimension, but only if someone can lend her a 50 bucks for “inter-dimensional travel expenses.”
As the days turn into weeks, the only thing growing faster than the town’s collective frustration is the pile of paperwork generated by the investigation. Memo upon memo, report upon report, all filled with jargon and acronyms that would make a cryptologist dizzy. Will the key ever be found? Will the truth ever be known? Or will this entire saga be swept under the rug, along with the missing key? Tune in next week for another thrilling instalment of “Key-Stone Cops,” where the only thing more elusive than the truth is a good night’s sleep for the exasperated residents of Sanctimonia.
Disclaimer: No keys were harmed in the making of this satire. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. And if you happen to find a spare key under your couch cushion, please return it to the nearest bewildered authority figure!
