That poor Baskerville family.
After re-reading The Hound of the Baskervilles last month, I've been well reminded as to how troublesome a single canine cursing your family can be. But a trip to Barnes & Noble last night showed things to be much worse than I ever imagined. Titles like The Hen of the Baskervilles and Chihuahua of the Baskervilles jumped out at me as I wandered the shelves. A little googling when I got home brought up the existence of a hamster of the Baskervilles, a cat of the Baskervilles, an entire pound of the Baskervilles, a goose of the Baskervilles, a pit bull of the Baskervilles, and even an otter of the Baskervilles . . . oh, wait, that's just Benedict Cumberbatch.
Anyway, the thought that all this put in my head was this: What if Hugo Baskerville wasn't an isolated case?
What if all the Baskervilles had a hereditary tendency to offer their souls to all that is evil for something that would cause an ironic animal-related death for them and their descendents.
"I'll render my body and soul to the Powers of Evil if I can just have some more turkey, Barrymore!"
SHAZAM! The Turkey of the Baskervilles!
"A horse! A horse! My body and soul to the Powers of Evil for a horse!"
PRESTO! The Stallion of the Baskervilles!
"That's bull! If that's not bull, I'll give my body and soul to the Powers of Evil! Bull!"
KA-PLOWEE! The Longhorn of the Baskervilles!
"Old MacDonald had a farm, ee-yi, ee-yi, body and soul to the Powers of Evil . . . ."
ZING! BIFF! POW! The Hog of the Baskervilles! The Ewe of the Baskervilles! The Llama of the Baskervilles!
You'd think that Baskervilles could go vegetarian and pet-free, secure their house like a fortress, and be safe from the cursed menagerie stalking them from all of their forebears' bad life choices, but nooooooooo, the internet also shows a reference to a Cabbage of the Baskervilles. If the vegetables are also going to start cursing the Baskervilles, they're totally screwed.
And even Sherlock Holmes can't keep up with bringing rationality to that much silliness. It's not like he's showing up in books like The Hen of the Baskervilles and Chihuahua of the Baskervilles, I'm guessing. The guy has some dignity, even now, after the Asylum Sherlock Holmes.
But those poor Baskervilles . . . .
The ongoing investigation of Sherlock Holmes, reported from the Peoria, Illinois outpost of Baker Street's dirtiest half a dozen.
I, too, am guilty of jumping into the Baskerville barnyard. This year I wrote ''The Bovine of the Baskervilles.' (R-rated adult humor, which Bob Burr called Sherlockian porn) The Hound is a tale that just keeps wagging.
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