Most of us do not even know on which day we were born. While pouring himself a second cup of coffee, he pondered the idea. Oh what the heck, he told himself. Might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb. He helped himself to the second-to-last tea-cake.
The birth day of Solomon Grundy was fixed in his mind. He had been born on a Monday. After a pleasant sojourn, working his way through the puzzle, Dr. Rapport reflected that he not ever remember being quite this happy. Oh what the blazes, he thought, that last tea-cake won't kill me. In atonement, I'll have no-fat cottage cheese for dinner.
As his crossword session was drawing to a close, he began to feel a bit woozy. Too big a brunch, he told himself. It was clearly indigestion. Still and all, Saturday was the day that he visited his mother, his dear mother, who resided in a care facility that only very successful sons could afford. Long Island suddenly seemed a long way off. He decided that he just wasn't up to it and decided to phone instead. Better do it now while I still have some crossword items to finish, he reminded himself. Although Mother was as sharp as ever, she tended to ramble on. He would be able to kill off the last few clues while he half listened. Just like a day at the office, he reminded himself. It I'd been paid my usual fee for every session that I endured with her, I could be retired by now.
When he came to the clue, born on Monday, he knew which way to go. This puzzle was almost too easy. It was almost as though it had been compiled for him alone. What in the world had Varney been up to? If he wasn't careful, he was going to start losing his clientele one way or the other. You've got to keep challenging your readers or you'll lose them. Keep them on their toes or they'll die of boredom.
"By the way, Mom," he asked by way of greeting when she finally go around to answering the phone. "On which day of the week was I born?"
Mom rambled on about the worst snowstorm, Upper Manhattan had ever experienced. His father had a dickens of a time getting a taxi to get her to the hospital in time.
At long last, she said, "It was a Monday. Why do you ask?"
"Just wondering. That's all. It's not important, Mom. I was just curious."
"Curiosity killed the cat," she said. "You'd think it was a matter of life or death. You always were a strange duck, Solomon."
Ringing off, Dr. Rapport made up his mind. If it was the last thing he ever did, this was the last Varney puzzle he'd ever do. Once he'd solved a few more clues, he would be forever free of Varney. Besides George's puzzles seemed to be getting too darn easy. One clue to go and I'm a free man," he muttered. "Dead easy."
"Everyone knows the day that Solomon Grundy was buried," he said to no one in particular with a smug smile on his face..
the end