Wait For It… a blog by Andy Ross

Mystery Key

Posted on April 14, 2011


For the past couple of years, I’ve had an extra key on my key chain. I have no idea what lock it fits, and honestly, I only noticed it by accident when I mistook it for my front door key. (By the way, no I was not high, Mr. I-Make-Assumptions-About-Andy's-Life-Choices.)

I asked my wife about it; I tried it in all the doors of our apartment; I looked for distinguishing marks… I got nothing, you guys.

So, I’ve come up a few possibilities as to what this key might open:

- My laundry room two apartment buildings ago.

- Some attic somewhere.

- The ancient chest in the corner of the basement with the scary thumping sounds.

- Half of a locket that I never knew held the identity of my royal twin, from whom I was separated at birth. And, also he’s bored by his pampered life. If only he could somehow switch places with someone… And, also he has a really cool dog.

- Happiness / my dreams / success / the Twinkie drawer.

- My super-secret wall safe behind my painting of Scrooge McDuck.

- The gun rack in my uncle’s '82 Impala.

- The complex allegory of visual motifs of Mulholland Drive.

- A rental car I keep forgetting to return. Ugh.

[Wait a minute, I was only kidding earlier about the Twinkie drawer, but now I can’t stop thinking that it might actually BE the key for my drawer full of Twinkies. Let me go check that again…

... Nope. They’re still stuck in there.]

- My mailbox. Do people still send snail mail anymore? Oh my god, do you think that’s where all my utility bills went?

- The motel room of that creepy dude from the aluminum siding conference.


- A storage space filled with collectible teddy bears.

- Some sort of guerilla theater thing my wife planned for my 30th birthday but then gave up on.

- Some sex stuff I don’t want to get into on my blog.

Anyway, I’ll probably remember what this mystery key is for eventually. Until then, it’ll stay right here on my keychain between my key for the lobby and this key for the… um…



The Case of the Blue Bedspread

Posted on May 28, 2010

Alright, Pearl, find a duvet cover, and let’s get outta here. This store smells like a cinnamon candle farted in my face. Why are we redoing the guestroom, anyway? The grandkids won’t look up from their phones long enough to notice.

Yeah, sure, that one looks good. Let’s go. No no, I’m not just saying that to leave. You’re right, that is the perfect duvet for our guestroom. It's the same blue as the drapes. It's got the same pink as the guest towels. And, the flowers on it are mums—just like the lamp. It's almost as if it was made for the room.

Although … huh. Wait just a minute. It’s perfect alright—a little too perfect.

Pearl, I am not being paranoid! You don't spend forty-seven years on the Jacksonville Police Force without learning when something smells fishy. This here's fishy. We go out looking for a bedspread, and BLAM! The first one we find is perfect. You learn to question these things.

Listen to me, something's not right here. You wouldn't believe the number of times Baker and I would go out on a call, and it would be just like this—set up to seem like everything had fallen into our laps. But, there was always someone behind it, pulling the strings.

Yes, Pearl, of course I want the kids to visit. This isn’t about dragging my feet on the guestroom. It’s about my detective instincts. I should have never retired, with these things still as sharp as they are.

So, with the bedspread, what do we have to go on? You were right about the colors being an exact match. Then, who has access to our guestroom to know its colors? Only your friend Dorothy. No, Dorothy's not smart enough for this kind of thing. Besides, I ran a background check on her after the cow creamer went missing.

Follow the money. Nine times out of ten, it’s about money. So, where does the money go? Who owns this store? Of course! Crazy Lenny. It’s the perfect cover for a criminal mastermind—everyone thinks he’s crazy. More like, Crazy-Like-a-Fox Lenny!

Pearl, where are you coming back from? What?! You bought the duvet cover? But, it’s trap, Pearl! You’ve put us right where they wanted us. And, matching pillows? Noooooo!!

Fine, but this means I get to buy that mini fridge for the den.