Short Story - 'The Slightest Clue'

‘The Slightest Clue’

A short story by Conner Bridel

”I know what you’re thinking. Trust me, I do. But if you just give me five minutes to explain, I promise it’ll make complete sense.”

These were the first words sixteen-year old Thomas Green spoke to his mother and father as they walked through the door of their once quiet, peaceful and serene suburban home. As they stood in the doorway, jaws just barely above the floor, Thomas watched as both of their faces contorted from what was originally shock into confusion, disbelief and, eventually, white-hot fury.

Thomas stood in the middle of what was, or rather, what used to be, his families living room. Strewn about in a truly chaotic fashion were streamers, balloons, and decorations of all sorts and sizes, mainly orange and black coloured, in an attempt to reign in the Halloween spirit. The problem was that, in addition to the festive décor, the room (as well as the rest of the house, for that matter) was littered with a potentially record breaking amount of beer bottles, cans, and other alcoholic beverages, either empty or half-full. To top it all off, the air was contaminated with the distinct and damningly pungent smell of marijuana, which was almost certainly the reason Thomas’ mother began to wrinkle her nose in annoyance and disgust.

But it wasn’t really his fault. Not all of it, anyway. Besides, it was his parents who gave him permission to throw the party, as long as he only invited a couple of his friends. How was he to know that those couple of friends would invite a couple of friends of their own? Or that the friends of his friends would invite their friends as well?

Thomas was the first to admit that it had gotten out of hand pretty quickly. Having never been the kind of kid that liked to rain on the parade of others, he casually shrugged it off as ten guests became twenty, and then fifty, and then somewhere close to a hundred. If anything, it was a small victory that the cops had been called as early as they had, likely by ninety-two year old Mrs. Peacock across the street. Staying long enough to make sure that each and every rambunctious teenager left the premises, he had been lucky enough to receive only a warning from the big guys in blue, as stern as it may have been. Had he consumed any alcohol at all or if anyone been too drunk to take care of themselves, they assured him it could have been a lot worse.

That had been his first lecture of the night, maybe about an hour or so ago, and Thomas knew full well that he was about to get his second. As he tried to think up the right thing to say to his outraged parents, he heard footsteps bounding down the staircase from around the corner, causing him to let out a groan.

“Mom? Dad?” Came the voice of his twelve-year sister Carly as she carefully stepped around the obstacle course of spilt drinks, cans and debris that peppered the hallway from the stairs to the living room. In the midst of all the chaos, she had dutifully locked herself in her room after Thomas had bribed her with a crisp ten dollar bill in exchange for her doing so. But now, as the party was officially over, she was free to roam and take pleasure in the repercussions of her older brother’s actions.

“Is this the part where Thomas gets in trouble? Cuz’ that’s always my favorite part.” Stepping into the living room, her eyes widened full of surprise and delight at the sheer carnage before her. “Holy cow. This is definitely the part where Thomas gets in trouble.”

Refraining from telling his kid sister off in front of his parents, knowing that doing so would only make matters worse, Thomas swallowed his pride and bravely looked at his parents. “So. Obviously this place is a little bit of a mess, and you should know that I fully intend on cleaning it all up-”

“A little bit? A little bit of a mess?” His father cut him off, rage replacing the regular colour of his face with something dark, red, and scary. “Thomas, this place looks like it got punched in the face by World War Two. What the hell happened here tonight?”

His tone, not to mention the stern glare from his mother, was enough to drastically reduce Thomas’ confidence, causing him to stammer nervously in reply. “I dunno, I only invited a couple people, like you said; just people you know, like Carson and Rob. But then they started telling other people from school that I was having a party, and word just kind of spread, you know? I know it’s my fault, but…” Thomas trailed off, unsure of how to explain himself any further, looking at the ground so as not to meet his parent’s eyes.

“Jesus, Thomas.” His mother spoke this time, as she surveyed the damage from their spot in front of the door to the house, having not moved a muscle since they got home. “Is the whole house like this, or..?”

Almost as if on cue, Carly’s voice called from the dining room, where she had somehow slinked off too while Thomas had been explaining himself. “WOW!” She exclaimed, the disbelief clear in her tone from across the main floor of their home. “How did you even do this?”

With a sinking feeling, Thomas knew exactly what she was referencing without even having to be in the same room as her. His parents, however, did not, and right after giving him another withering glare, they slowly walked towards the dining room, doing their best to prepare themselves for what they were about to see.

They failed. For the second time that night, their jaws dropped as they saw what Carly had been so amazed to discover. There, lodged inside the wall with one half visible and the other buried deep in plaster, was what used to be the centrepiece of their dining room table; a long and brilliantly gold candlestick, minus the candle, which was on the floor in four separate pieces just a couple of feet away.

There was a brief few seconds of awkward silence, for which Thomas was thankful for, until his sister couldn’t help herself and burst out laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. Thomas shot her a glare, unable to contain himself. “Shut up, Carly! Go somewhere you’re actually wanted-”

“No, Thomas!” The severity of his mother’s tone stopped him short, and he shrunk back in defeat. “You don’t get to talk to her like that, not after all this. What the hell were you thinking? What if Mrs. Peacock hadn’t called the police and this party of yours hadn’t been broken up as soon as it was? There is a candlestick in our dining room wall. A candlestick. You’re lucky she called us, too, because if we’d come home a couple hours from now like we planned, just to see all this-”

He couldn’t help it. “I knew that old hag was the one that called-”

“Thomas!”

“Sorry.”

Realizing that she was starting to lose control of her temper, his mother closed her eyes and took a deep breath in an effort to compose herself. After a moment, she reopened them so that could continue to glare at her son, whilst also pointing a noticeably shaking finger towards the horribly out of place candlestick.

“Now.” She took another deep breath. “Explain how that happened.”

Thomas nervously looked at his feet, shuffling them at the same time in embarrassment. “Would you believe me if I told you that I haven’t the slightest clue?”

“Thomas. Now.”

Taking a deep breath of his own, Thomas began. “Okay, fine. You know Rob, right? Always has to be the life of the party, usually by being the goofiest guy in the room?” His parents said nothing, continuing to glare and waiting for him to go on. ”Well, for Halloween this year, he got this really wicked soldier outfit from Party City, cost him like a hundred bucks or something. It was actually pretty cool, decked out in camouflage paint and everything – okay, I can see that you don’t care. Anyway, he had a couple of drinks, just enough to get himself a little bit goofier than normal, and when he saw the candlestick, well .. Um …”

This is where it got a bit harder to explain. “See, when he saw the candlestick, he had this really funny idea. He picked it up, then went to the fridge, and pulled out … The mustard.”

A dead and truly uncomfortable silence filled the room.

“So, uh, yeah. The mustard. He pulled it out and, um ... Squirted some on himself. Like, on his costume. Not a lot, mind you, we still have enough in case we want to have hot dogs or burgers one night, but … Um, yeah.” As Thomas neared the end of his story, he had never felt so ridiculous in his life. “So, with the mustard and the candlestick, he .. Uh … Starting yelling out to everyone that he was … That he was ‘The Colonel’.

The silence thickened.

“He kept saying that for the rest of the night, he wanted to be referred to as ‘The Colonel.’ Then, well ... He started to wave the candlestick around like an idiot, you know Rob … And that’s when he slipped, probably on a drink that someone spilled over there.” Thomas pointed to the ground in front of the damaged wall, where there was indeed a small puddle of something likely alcoholic. “The candlestick when flying from his hand as he fell, and, uh …” Thomas trailed off, unable to finish and knowing that didn’t have too.

After just a few more seconds of silence, his mother began to rub the sides of her head with her two sets of fingers. “Thomas …” She started, failed, took yet another deep breath, and then tried again. “Thomas… Are you trying to tell me that – That Colonel Mustard did this – in the dining room – with the candlestick?”

Thomas turned bright red. “Well, when you put it like that, it sounds extra ridiculous –”

“Go to your room, Thomas. I honestly can’t handle speaking to you right now. Just .. Just go.”

Without another word, Thomas hung his head in defeat, walking past his parents and not even caring that his sister was barely able to contain herself with laughter, despite remaining silent throughout the entirety of his story. He trudged up the stairs, as guilty and embarrassed as he could be, and made a mental note to kill Rob the next time his parents let him out of the house.

His father, having been silent for most of the time spent in the kitchen, looked at his wife and daughter, who were looking at him, likely for some sort of reaction. All he did, however, was take another look at the candlestick in the wall, than back to his wife, and then back to the candlestick. Finally, he turned his back to them and walked out of the kitchen, calling out as he strode through the aftermath of his sons botched Halloween party.

“I’ll deal with this tomorrow morning. If you need me, I’ll be in the study, attempting to forget that this ever happened. And so help me God, if I find a lead pipe in there, I am going to kill someone…”