Malcolm the Comb - a fable
by Jean-Luc Lebrun

The Case Of The Missing Comb

Henri Abe, the Swiss army knife,

Had been detective all his life.

Everywhere, his skills were welcome.

The disappearance of Malcolm,

A comb from DownTown Calgary

Was surrounded by mystery.

Henri was called in to retrieve

The missing comb. So Henri sieved

All the rooms where Malcolm had been.

"Let's see if the bathroom is clean.

"My dear Mister Scissors, would you

"Very kindly give me a clue?"

The scissors said: "Malcolm was grim

"When his owner last looked at him.

"I think he mentioned the dentist.

"I hope you can make sense of this"

"Dentist?", said Henri pondering.

His eyes caught a dog flea crouching

"Ha, Ha!" he said. “Now, don’t you dare!

"If I were you I’d stay right there!"

The dog flea was about to scamp

But Henri stopped the little tramp.

"Did you see a comb recently?"

The word meant terror to the flea.

"A comb?, she replied, now shaking.

"I saw a comb. I was incog

"On the back of Medor the dog

"Drawing a pint of blood for tea

"While Medor slept on the settee.

"I should have been caught, I escaped!

I don't know why I wasn't raked.

"I guess its missing teeth missed me".

"I did not miss that", said Henri,

Who duly described our Malcolm.

"That's him", said the flea, "That's the comb!"

The Swiss knife paused for reflection

And arrived at a conclusion.

He looked for Malcolm in the trash

And found him under some goulash.

Most of its teeth had gone, Alas!

Malcolm the comb had come-to-pass.

Completeness makes usefulness.

©Jean-Luc Lebrun

August 1988