After reading Daniel and Mona’s clever puns, I had to send this
along. It’s a piece I saved from the August 1, 1994 issue of
National Jeweler, written by someone named Troy Finegold, and I just
got permission from them to print it here. Hope you get a chuckle or
two out of it! Here goes…
I remember it like it was yesterday. The call came in late one jet
black night. A former blues star named Sapphire was missing. She’d
last been seen at a cheap little place called the Cinnabar. Of
quartz, this was the kind of case I had quite an apatite for. I
fired up my topaz and headed right over.
The boule at the door looked pretty rough. I made him to be a former
boxite. He’d been hard, but dumb as an onyx. He’d fought under the
name Sugarite Leonard. Once he’d been a contender, now he just
looked jaded.
I looked past him to the hostess, Pearl.
Pearl was cultured but liked to string men along. She didn’t like
guys who were freshwater. With her it was best to just clam up and
act natural. Then mabe shell take you home to meet her momme. If you
know what I mean.
“You look lustrous tonight,” I said.
“Abalone,” she replied.
“Where’s the boss?” I asked.
“You mean Jasper?”
I scanned the room. There in the back was the boss. Now, I’d red
Jasper to be an agate, but he was clustered with some real gems.
On his left was Ruby, who always showed a lot of Thai. On his right
was Diamond. She was a real contradiction: flawless but all
cleavage.
“Glad to see you,” I muttered.
“I2,” she replied.
The lights dimmed, and the entertainment started. It was Anneal
Diamond, backed by a former wedding band, doing a Stones Medley.
They were playing “Sympathy for the Bezel.”
Then I saw her.
It was Sapphire standing behind the mica phone singing backup. The
band finished with a brilliant version of “Rolling and Tumbling” and
took a break.
I didn’t want to be rutile, but I walked right up.
“You’re harder to find than a Chatham Diamond,” I quipped.
“Yehuda think you’re talking to?” she shot back.
“You’ve been missed, and I’d sodalite you to come with me.”
Sapphire diffused to listen. In fact, I could tell that she was
getting irradiated. She motioned to the boule at the door, and he
was on me like a cheap doublet.
He drilled me hard and opened up a culet over my fisheye. I kicked
him in the strontium. He screamed something obsidian. A melee broke
out, and someone called the coppers.
Everything got crazed as I grabbed Sappgire and headed out the
door.,
“Iolite your style,” she said, obviously no longer verneuled with
me.
“Are you Ceres?” I asked.
We haloed a cabochon. She sat on my lapis.
We spent the rest of the night at my place getting louped.