Graveyard of the Hesperides

L

“Never mind,” teased Tiberius. “You have plenty to do trying to identify the deceased chicken.”

He had kindly waited until Macer had left before he started ragging. Even so, I felt my hackles rise. If there had been any way to trace the late and unlamented fowl and its one-time owner, or if there was any point in doing so, I would have set about it, just to show him.

Despite knowing better, I started thinking about that chicken bone.

Next thing, I had asked Tiberius the name of the undertakers who had taken away our skeletons-and off I went by myself to have another look. Some informers would not have bothered. I like to be thorough (when I can think of nothing else to do). But do not mock. I was about to prove that diligence pays off.