Felix Au Gratin

Still exhausted from shock and running around like three sight-challenged cousins from a rather a tasteless nursery rhyme I know, I return to the smelly davenport and conk out.

A sudden noise, like a soda pop exploding, wakes me with a jerk.The door knob rattles violently. Someone, I sense, is trying to get in.

"Felix, is that you?" I squeak.

An exasperated snort. "No. It's the local cat come for my breakfast. Of course, it's me. Open up!"

I unlock and open the door. I scream and try to close it.

A gooey yellow foot pushes across the threshold, followed by a lot more gooey, stringy yellowness. Two angry eyes glare at me behind amber-steaked spectacles.

"Felix?" I ask, trying not to giggle... and failing.

Nodding, he bares his teeth at me.

"You look like a cheese pizza!" I just have to point out.

His eyes screw up in bewilderment, making cracks in his cheesy mask. "What? Oh, never mind!" Felix squishes past in a huff. He turns on me. "How did you know about that fire?"

I take a seat on the davenport. "I studied it in my history class," I calmly explain. "The Great Scrimshander Sprocket Fire of 1922 took out an entire block on the water front, to include a warehouse full of Gloucestshire cheese." I reach out and snag a glob from Felix's jacket. I taste it. "Yes. That's what you're wearing, all right!"

Felix blinks at me in astonishment. He stumbles to the chair behind his desk, collapsing into it. He covers his face with his paws... and immediately regrets it.

"Yuck!"

Holding his liberally au gratin-ed digits out like flippers, he croaks, "It's true then. You have  come from the future!"

"Your forensic skills serve you well, Inspector." I roll my eyes. "Finally!"