Just to remind everyone how this exciting episode in the life of Mrs. Angloswiss began, here is a link to part I. Are you sitting comfortably, with the popcorn ready, then I will continue.
Many were the sleepless nights I had trying to remember what I did with the small, handy, pair of scissors that seemed to have disappeared from the surface of the earth. I scoured the newspapers daily, searching for the report of a victim being found stabbed to death where the handles of a small pair of scissors were protruding from the heart.
In the meanwhile Mr. Swiss carried on as if nothing had happened. He had treated himself to new loudspeakers for his stereo machine. They were smaller than the older ones. The previous loudspeakers were large and had to stand on the floor, occupying valuable space in our wonderful massive black wooden library which covered a complete wall. It was full of best sellers books, unfortunately not mine. Mr. Swiss had already been busy constructing nice strong black containers for his DVD collection with golden re-enforced corners before the new loudspeakers arrived, to be prepared. He had everything planned. A dealer picked up the old loudspearkers, one of those hobby people that collected things, renovated them and probably re-sold them. He gave Mr. Swiss 20 Swiss Francs as a pittance, which would be perhaps equivalent to $20. Mr. Swiss had other things to do. He replaced the space of the two large standing loudspeakers with two new shelves and lovingly placed the new smaller loudspeakers on one of the shelves and filling the other shelf with books. The DVD black boxes with golden corners were now ready to be used and placed on the floor beneath.
I watched the happenings, wondering if he would need a pair of small scissors, the scissors that were no longer there. I was lucky, he was happy with the new loudspeakers and seemed to have forgotton the empty space in the drawer where the scissors were.
Two days later Mr. Swiss and I were on a hunting trip in the local supermarket for food and he discovered they were selling scissors, small scissors. Not the same as the long lost scissors, but similar. Of course they were nothing in perfection to the scissors I had mistakenly disposed of, but they were better than nothing. Imagine the excitement when we returned home and placed the replacement, inferior, small scissors in the drawer.
The days passed by, no sign of a lost small scissor and Mr. Swiss disappeared. I did not really notice he was gone, he often disappears. Sometimes he goes to the hobby room to practice on his set of drums (he is a drummer, specialising in modern jazz), sometimes he just disappears with no reason. Perhaps to fetch the post from the post box, perhaps to take a bag of rubbish to the container, and now and again goes for a walk. We are both old enough not to worry about these small disappearances. Sometimes I also disappear, but usually to iron some clothes or in the kitchen to cook.
But this disappearance was a disappearance to be remembered. He re-appeared and entered the appartment with one of those large paper bags in his hand, not exactly smiling, but with a contented look.
“Look what I found in the cellar” he said.
“You were in the cellar” I said.
“Yes, I told you I was going to the cellar to tie the old newspapers together. We have a newspaper collection tomorrow morning.”
“Ah yes”, I said not really remembering that he told me why he was disappearing, but I was probably not listening.
“So what did you find” I asked.
“I found this paper bag and look what is inside.”
What should I say, “another paper bag”, “a dead mouse” or …..
“Look the small scissors are inside, the ones we could not find.”
“Yes, now I remember. When I was assembling the boxes for the DVD’s I used them to cut some string, and packed everything in this bag afterwards and put it away in the cellar.”
What was my reaction, what did I say, did Mr. Swiss survive after this confession? Stay tuned in for the next part.