The Case of the Literal Lithuanian

The storm threatened all day, as dark clouds hung around like black Cadillacs outside a funeral. Finally, in late afternoon, just as happy hours began all over the city, the sky roared open and an avalanche of water poured down.

The rain was biblical. Within minutes, gutters overflowed and torrents of water carried empty beer cans, 7-Eleven megacups and small children down the street.

After rescuing a few small children, I ducked underneath the awning of a fancier-than-thou hotel. The doorman looked me up and down without offering to open the door.

“Don’t worry, pop,” I said, “I don’t want to go in and pay $15 for water. I’m just here to wait out the storm.”

He replied, but his words were drowned out by the rain. So together we watched the waters rise on the streets, and in the haze I could have sworn I saw pairs of animals lining up around the corner.

After a few minutes, a skinny man wearing a skinny tie joined us beneath the awning. Water streamed from his jet black bangs, off his nose and into the pockets of his designer suit jacket.

Trying to make small talk, I said, “Wow, it’s raining cats and dogs.”

The man’s face turned white. “Oh, those poor creatures! Are they OK?” His reply carried an accent that sounded Russian-esque.

“It’s just a saying…cats and dogs…it means it’s raining a lot. You’re not from around here, are you?”

“That is true, my friend. I am from Lithuania. And I am finding it most difficult to learn the English.”

“You’re not alone. A lot of Americans I know find it hard to learn the English. Why did you leave Lithuania?”

“Because my woman, she love another men.”

“You mean man?”

“No…men.”

“Love hurts,” I said.

“Tell me about it. That’s how I lost my pinky. So now I am in America, as insurance man, but I still have problems.”

Fate, like Johnny Carson, is a funny thing. “I know a little about insurance. Tell me about your problem.”

“I insure laundromat on BOP policy, but I need to know if the machines—you know, washers and dryers—fall under building or contents insurance? It does not service the building by design. I thought that since they’re not bolted down and fixed to the floor in permanent nature, I need to insure laundry machines as personal property. What do you think, Mr…”

“Insura. Ace Insura. And I think you need to translate that policy again.”

For help solving this mystery and to check your solution against Ace’s, click here.

Jonathan Hermann (hermannism@gmail.com) is an IA contributing editor.