A Visit From The Fuzz By Brian “Have Clemency–No More!” With Addendum By Walter E. Doherty


Twas five minutes to orchids, and all through the ‘Stone
Nero Wolfe was a bellowing, “Leave me alone!”
Propositions proposed by yours truly who’d dared
Were rejected by Nero who hadn’t much cared
For the notion of working when brackets went up;
As long as the balance allowed him to sup;
And Fritz in the kitchen and Theo above
Had just settled down to their labors of love–
When out in the hall there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my desk to see what was the matter.
Away to the front door I ran like an ass,
And peered through the door’s one-way panel of glass.
The sun, and the afternoon shadows that droop,
Allowed me to take in the cop on the stoop;
When what to my wandering eyes should appear,
But a red-faced detective who rose from the rear
With a look in his eyes as if thrown from a flamer,
I knew in an moment that it must be Cramer.
More rapid than subways his curses they came,
And he screamed and he shouted and called us by name:
“Now, Wolfe! hey now, Goodwin! now, Horstmann and Brenner!
I’ve got this here warrant and I wanna enner!
You can do it the easy way or you can clown,
But if it’s the latter, I’ll haul you downtown!”
Unlike leaves that when met with a hurricane fly,
I prefer not to hurry, I wait for the eye;
So up to the greenhouse his curses they flew,
And I stood there grinning, and his anger grew.
And then in a twinkling, I heard from behind,
The creaky old Otis was starting to grind,
As I twisted my bod and was turning around,
I beheld the large form of my boss–it was round.
He was dressed in a yellow shirt, brown was his suit,
Folks, I have to admit, he was really a beaut!
And he moved rather quickly for someone so large,
It was more like a glide as opposed to a charge.
His eyes–how they blazed; his creases, how wary!
When Nero had wanted to, he could look scary!
His thin little lips were drawn up in a line,
And I counted the rolls on his chin–there were nine!
He had a broad face, and his voice, could he bellow!
He wasn’t so tall as much wide as a cello.
He was chubby and plump, a right grouchy old cuss,
And I knew he had come down because of the fuss:
He gave me an eighth of an inch type of nod,
Which for him is a violent movement of bod;
He spoke not a word, but went straight for the door,
And it opened two inches and not an inch more;
And he said, “For a straight jacket, you should be fitted.
Whenever you come here, you won’t be admitted!”
He started to close it, the warrant came to,
But it caught the front edge and it didn’t get through,
And it hangs on the door and it has the whole night,
And Wolfe said, “He’s a bungler–picking a fight!”

————Addendum————–

Cramer put his thumb to his nose and he wiggled a finger
And disappeared up the street where he did not wish to linger.
And he said under his breath as he strode out of sight
“God *bless* you, Wolfe, and *don’t* have a good night.”

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Categories: Wolfean Parodies | Tags: , , , | Leave a comment

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