It's A Mystery To Me

Personal notice, dangerous my stock and trade. If the job's too tough for you to handle, you got a job for me, George Valentine. Right full details. Greetings, as always, Mr. Lover.

Time for another Let George Do It adventure. Our little tale of suspense, which by the way is called, It's a Mystery to Me, has to do with a disgruntled bartender, a mystery story writer, and an elusive gal named Cynthia just to name a few.

And since it's rather a long story, I think I'd better get off so they can get on. Why don't you want to drink? Oh, never mind, never mind. Use up the stool, keep the leather in condition.

Dear Mr. Valentine, to me life is hopelessly complex, but with your help it can be beautiful, terrific, magnificent. To me, life isn't worth living without the... To me, it's raining. Here, eat up the pretzels there for nothing.

Stale, too. Look, we're just sitting here, friend. You don't really mind, do you? Well, I was just gonna lock up when you walked in. Libraries closed, I guess. Gotta read your mail someplace, only. Look, we're waiting for somebody.

We'll buy something pretty soon. Chin up. Why? In Joe's Oasis, it rains inside. You have some flat champagne. Well, business can't be so bad if you sell champagne. Couple was in here just before you. Happy rich shawing off.

You know, it's that kind of a neighborhood. Everybody wants something big and gets it and goes someplace else. To you life is pretty complex too, isn't it? Look around you lady. It's the only business I had tonight.

Well, don't shoot yourself friend. We'll take some coffee. Big sale. I'm out of the red. To me lady, it says complex is a six foot piece of mahogany with silver on the trimming. And the clearest glass in it you ever saw.