Once upon a Wednesday that definitely wasn’t behaving like a normal weekday, a retired knight named Sir Picklehelm moved into a small cottage with nothing but his rusty armour, a half-written memoir, and a cactus named Susan. Susan didn’t speak (being a cactus), but she had an undeniable aura of judgement, especially whenever the door made its mysterious squeak. No amount of oiling, glaring, or dramatic sword-pointing ever stopped the squeak, and Sir Picklehelm became convinced it was either haunted or secretly laughing at him.
During one investigation, he sat at his desk and opened his dusty laptop, where he accidentally clicked a bookmark for Pressure washing Crawley. He had no idea what it meant, but he wrote it down in his “Book of Possible Door Cures,” right under “unlikely ghost mouse?” The next tab showed Driveway Cleaning Crawley, and though he didn’t own a driveway, he wondered if perhaps the door would squeak less if the air around it felt tidier.
Moments later, Sir Picklehelm sneezed so violently he hit a third tab: Patio Cleanign Crawley. The typo intrigued him. Was “Cleanign” a spell? A lost medieval verb? Should he chant it at the door at midnight while holding Susan the cactus like a sceptre? He added it to his notes.
Of course, the squeak continued. Even Susan began to look concerned (or as concerned as a cactus can look). In desperation, Sir Picklehelm clicked a fourth tab—Exterior Cleaning Crawley. “Ah,” he said. “Perhaps the outside of the door is angry.” He bowed respectfully to the door. The door squeaked again. Mockingly.
Just then, the final tab appeared: Solar Panel Cleaning Crawley. Sir Picklehelm had no solar panels, nor any sunlight indoors (he lived in what was basically a cottage-shaped cave), but the phrase sounded impressively futuristic. He briefly considered attaching Susan to a kite and launching her toward the sky to gather solar wisdom. Susan did not approve.
Eventually, Sir Picklehelm gave up on the door entirely and wrote a poem instead. The door squeaked every third line like it was performing percussion. The cactus sighed internally. Somewhere, a pigeon landed on the roof and added dramatic ambience.
To this day, no one knows why the door squeaks. Some blame weather. Some blame ghosts. Some blame Susan.
But deep in his cottage, Sir Picklehelm still keeps the list:
– Pressure washing Crawley
– Driveway Cleaning Crawley
– Patio Cleanign Crawley
– Exterior Cleaning Crawley
– Solar Panel Cleaning Crawley
Not because they solved anything… but because every great mystery deserves at least five unrelated hyperlinks.
