The statement unfolded—a story of a drunken student stumbling his way out of a pub and encountering a stranger that turned out to be a lure, or so he swore—and Daffy read it the way he usually read things like this: as a dramatic script, complete with emotions, voices, and dramatizations. It wasn’t as wild as the Scarlet Pumpernickel or some of the other tales he’d told, but there was certainly plenty of scope for theatrics.
“Thtatement endth,” he said finally. “Well. That wath a load of nonthenth. Honethtly, no thtudio in Hollywood would have bought that thtory, let alone a prethtigiouth academic inthtitution like the Magnuth Inthtitute. I would normally put thith thtraight in the new thection I’ve thtarted, the ‘Buthted’ thection, which I exthpect to get a lot of uthe out of.” He frowned. “That being thaid, Tweety did thome digging, and he did dithcover that thixth people went miththing in the thame plathe ath Mithter Wattth’th thtatement between two thouthand and five and two thouthand and ten. The firtht wath Jeththica McEwan in November two thouthand five, then Tharah Baldwin in Augutht two thouthand and thixth, Daniel Rawlingth in Dethember of that thame year, then Athhley Dobthon and Megan Thaw in May and June of two thouthand and eight. Then, ath Mithter Wattth mentioned, John Felloweth in two thouthand and ten. All thixth dithappearantheth remain untholved.”
He snorted. “Let’th be theriouth. If thith thort of thing had happened in Toon Town, I might have believed it, but in Thcotland? Forget it! There’th jutht no reathon to believe that people are dithappearing at an unuthal rate, let alone that they’re being taken by…” He picked up the statement again. “Thome thort of monthter that lureth people in with puppeth thaped like humanth. Honethtly, what ith thith, the Muppet Thow? You’re thuppothed to take them theriouthly. Not meat monthterth in thpooky alleywayth.”