The Case of Noah’s Flood

I don’t follow sports. I don’t follow rules—not even the “I before E except after C” rule. But I do follow the latest trends in men’s footwear.

One afternoon, after an ugly incident involving my freshly-polished Bruno Maglis and a freshly-baked sidewalk cake from a police horse, I needed a new pair of shoes. Unfortunately my wallet was as empty as a nun’s lingerie drawer—I just didn’t have the Washingtons for the wing tips.

I tried to rustle up some dough through various methods—selling my celebrity belly button lint collection on eBay, performing on a street corner with my harp and entering a few bikini contests—but nothing worked.

In an act of desperation, I threw $5 into the office March Madness pool and miraculously took the entire pot by picking Winner University. True to their name, they exorcised the Blue Devils, de-clawed the Wildcats and red-faced the Orangemen. Cash in hand, I headed straight to Tushy Toes Shoe House.

As I tried on every pair in sight, a man I couldn’t ignore walked in. It was not just because his beard was so long he could hide Danny DeVito in it, but also due to the way he asked the shoe jockey for the finest pair of hip-waders they had.

“Hip-waders,” I asked. “What do you need those for? It hasn’t rained here in weeks.”

He shook his head slowly, as if he knew something I didn’t, which was unlikely unless he knew where the CIA is hiding all the Boulevard Beer. I’d love to get my hands on some of that.

“You never know when a flood will strike, friend,” he said, “especially an insurance flood.”

“Friend,” I said, pushing the Ferragamos aside. “I only have 10 fingers, but I can plug every leak in an insurance damn. Spill it.”

“If you must know stranger, the lawn sprinkler malfunctioned, flooding my back yard and leaking four inches of water into my basement, causing damage. I thought this was covered, but the insurance company said it was excluded under the surface water exclusions. Since they are always right, what else can I do except buy some big boots and be prepared for the next flood?”

“I feel for you, sir. What’s your name?”

“Noah,” he said.

“Well Noah, there are better ways to deal with a flood that won’t leave you all wet.”

Why was Ace all dry and mighty?

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

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