Clam Chowder Day

Holmes once solved a murder by observing how the parsley had sunk into the butter on the table.

It just isn't a clam chowder day.

Not that I shouldn't have
ordered it, or that the alternative
was better or anything so

small as that. It's that it
thickened as I looked, there
just outside the grasp of the sun

on the table, the parsley
forlorn and desperate, when
everyone was laughing.