KEYS VANISH! PIGEONS, SQUIRRELS, AND MY PULITZER ARE ALL CONNECTED! (Bartholomew is a JERK)

My Keys, Where Did They GO?! - By Bronbus Quitley, Jape News

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. It happened again. You know, they say losing your keys is a sign of… well, I read it on a cereal box once, a sign of heightened creativity! Apparently, your brain is so busy thinking up brilliant ideas it just… misplaces important items. Makes sense, right? I mean, I am practically overflowing with brilliant ideas. It's a miracle I remember my own name, honestly. Bronbus Quitley, that’s me! Don't forget it. I'm predicting I’ll be winning a Pulitzer by, oh, Tuesday. Probably.

But back to the keys. Gone. Vanished. Poof! I had them just this morning. I distinctly remember using them… to lock the door. Revolutionary, I know. Locking doors is very important, especially with the uptick in garden gnome thefts we've been seeing. It's a crisis, I tell you! A crisis! Did you know garden gnomes are worth a fortune on the black market? True story. My cousin Mildred – she raises prize-winning petunias – she said… well, never mind. That’s a story for another day.

Anyway, the keys. I retraced my steps. You wouldn't believe where I looked. Behind the toaster (don’t ask), inside the tuba (long story, involves a bet), even checked the goldfish bowl. Bartholomew, my goldfish, didn’t seem to have them. He just… bubbled. Rude, really. You’d think after I’ve been feeding him algae flakes for three years, he’d at least acknowledge my distress.

I’ve searched the couch cushions, under the rug (found a rogue pickle, though!), and even considered the possibility that squirrels have developed a sophisticated key-stealing operation. They’re getting smarter, those squirrels. I saw one reading a newspaper just last week. A miniature newspaper, admittedly. But still!

It’s December 27th, 2025, by the way. A very important detail. I always feel it’s important to establish the date. It adds… gravitas. And it's cold! Which probably has nothing to do with the keys, but I just thought I’d mention it. Cold makes everything worse.

I’m starting to suspect a conspiracy. Maybe the keys aren't lost at all! Maybe… maybe they’ve been taken! By a shadowy organization dedicated to… well, I haven’t quite figured that part out yet. But it involves pigeons. Definitely pigeons. They’re always watching.

So here I sit, locked out of my own house, contemplating the existential dread of misplaced metal, and pondering the sinister motives of avian spies. And Bartholomew continues to bubble. Honestly.