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The story (parts 1-6) is under the spoiler tag.
Spoiler:
CUT! CUT! I need a costume change.
Part one is below while we wait for costume and set change for the flashback sequence.
PART ONE
Spoiler:
The four-word-posts story has grown into a monstrous size and threatening to devour us all (which is definitely a good thing, for certain values of 'good', and certain values of 'thing').
There have also been some people in here that are eager to be rich and famous, so maybe this is their opportunity to make it big. Or not.
I find that four words are a bit too restrictive for all those brilliant creative minds in here. So I now propose the two-sentences-per-post story. You now have enough room to complete that train of thought, but not enough to monopolize the plot. Let's see if this makes a bit more sense (ha!)
I go first:
******************** Case Of The Ape Stalker
The door creaked open, and in strolled a stunning blonde. There was an unmistakable mysterious air about her, and a mischievous glint in her black button eyes.
She sat on the proffered chair and removed one of her six-inch spiked high-heeled shoes, and massaged her ankle.
"I need your advice on a delicate matter," she said.
"It's important that word doesn't get out," she continued. "Can I count on your discretion ?"
"You can count on anything you like," I replied. "As long as I can count on your payment when the job is complete."
"Very well," she said. "I think I'm being followed by a very large and hairy ape."
"You're not sure?", I asked.
At that moment I caught a glimpse of reddish fur through the grimy window, but with the amount of whiskey I had in me my senses were not to be trusted, so I ignored it.
Meanwhile, somewhere in the city, a large and hairy ape had found the trail of a nice tidbit again. It was a bit old, but still he was able to trace it.
"Tell me more about that alleged ape stalker, then".
She fidgeted nervously with her handbag, avoiding my gaze.
My sharp eyes noticed a coarse reddish hair clinging to the seam in her silk stockings. It gently wafted to the floor as my antique desk fan unexpectedly came to life.
"I think he is the doorman or security guard or something at this place I've heard about. There was some trouble there recently, a murder I think."
"I started noticing a faint aura of banana around my windows last week. Then the phone calls started."
"The phone kept ringing at all times of the day, and night. It became unbearable," she said as she started to faint.
I tripped over the fan cord as I lunged forward to break her fall. As her purse hit the floor, the clasp opened and spilled the contents all over my filthy rug.
As can be expected, out fell all the usual cosmetic stuff. And also a tuft of red hair.
Various items covered the floor, the most interesting of which came to rest by the lamp. "Now, what would a lady be doing with one of those?", I wondered.
Picking up the miniature samurai sword, I quickly examined the blade. Hmm, I hummed, "Made in China."
Hmmm, I hummed once more. "What's this, erm, trace of blood?"
'What,' she gasped. 'I've never seen that knife before in my life!'
"Not blood", said the blonde, who had come to and was woozily attempting to sit up. "Tomato juice; it's a long story".
I sat down by her side. "Okay Doll, spill the beans, the whole story, from beginning to end, no messing me about, time is money you know."
"But, it is my money buying your time." She responded, having regained her wits.
"Which reminds me," I replied, "that we have not discussed payment yet". And that was only one of the many frustratingly vague things in this Case Of The Ape Stalker.
"I understand your rate is $300 a day, plus expenses" she said without batting an eyelash. Well, well, the dame had done her homework.
She handed over a brown envelope with the cash and a photo of her. As I looked back at her, she said, "That photo was on my doorstep this morning, and it's exactly what I was wearing the day of the Mystery Contest."
Or, rather, wasn't wearing. I'd never seen so little fabric used to contain assets of this size.
I waited for her to go on. "Do you think I look better in purple?", she asked me a little anxiously.
'Doll face,' I wheezed, 'you'd look sensational in anything.' 'Or nothing at all.'
She seemed a little reassured at that and gave me a tremulous smile. Then she said: "So, what are you going to do about the gibbon?".
"What gibbon was that?"
The lady looked at me, raising her eyebrows.
She stuttered for a moment, stumbling over her words, then pointed.
"That gibbon!"
We both watched silently as the ugliest hariest beast I had ever seen crept past the window. "That's him?"
"I..I..I'm not sure", she stuttered. "All gibbons look a bit alike, don't they?"
"But that one's quite distinctive", I said.
"It's wearing a fedora and carrying a book by Nietzsche"
"That's amazing! I never notice such things - that's why you're a PI and I'm not, I suppose", she giggled.
"That's right", I told her. "The thing I can't figure out though, is how he crept past the window when we're 4 stories up"!
"Maybe he used a bat-rope from his utility belt," she mused. "Not the sharpest knife in the drawer, is she?" I remembered thinking.
And did a double-take; why was I remembering something as it was happening? The answer was obvious.
I pressed the reset button, removed the cable from the back of my skull, and the direct brain insertion virtual reality simulation ended. But to my amazement I found the buxom blonde and the angry ape standing in front of me, looking quizzically in my direction holding, respectively and surpisingly, a banana and a pair of stilettos.
"Who are you, how did you get in here, what are you doing in the Private Investigators Training School and is that banana loaded?" I asked. (And yes, we do call this place the pits.)
Luckily I knew how to defend myself against fresh fruit. But wait...had we done bananas? (and was it fresh?)
"No," said the blonde but the rest of her words were drowned out by a gunshot and pain ringing in my ears. Damn, I thought as I collapsed in front of the smoking stilettos the ape was holding, I really should have done the course on how to protect yourself from a stiletto in the hands of a primate.
As I drifted out of consciousness, two mad images drifted in and out of my mind. A newsprint photo of a man in uniform, under the headline "REGICIDE!" and Groucho Marx singing Lydia, The Tatooed Lady."
Some time later, don't ask me how much, I ungummed my eyelids and looked up into the ugliest moniker I had ever seen. Then I turned from the mirror and there she was again, minus the ape.
My superior powers of observation also noted that she was minus her dress."Uh oh." I silently quipped, "This can only mean one thing!"
"Laundry day again?" I asked.
Passing her my spare, in case of emergency, super fluffy, travel robe.
While I scrounged around for quarters for the dryer, she began to scrounge around the room. "Oh, what a beautiful set of etchings you have!" she exclaimed.
I knew this line would only lead to trouble, so I abruptly changed the subject by asking, "Say doll, what happened to the gibbbon? And why are you wearing my house slippers?"
"Never mind the gibbon and the slippers; what the hell is that woman doing with that snake? That is a snake, isn't it?"
"Nope," I replied with my best Crocodile Dundee impression, "-- this is a snake."
She had a far more powerful right hook that you might think to look at her, I thought as I flew through the air in the direction of the industrial sized tumble drier.
I had been shot at by a stiletto heel and punched by a mysterious dame and confused by life, the universe and everything, and in general I was suspecting it was not my day. I really needed to take control of the situation asap.
So I calmly climbed out of the drier, crawled under my desk and began to phone for back up. Unfortunately the ape had pulled out all the wires.
As I started to crawl (man, I hope this doesn't become a habit) back out, I found myself staring at a pair of slippers, which, I have to admit, looked better on the end of her legs than mine. It was just my bad luck the other end of those legs were attached to the Dame with the mean right hook.
And then I had to admit, she does look cute, really cute, really really cute.
And then I started to think, 'do I have I concussion, does the World normally spin this way round? huh!"
And as the world started going dark, all I could think about was getting into that pair of slippers again....
Bright sunshine plucked at my eyelids.
Dark shadows and hallucigenic colours clouded my mind.
"Are you alright?" said a calm, sexy voice somewhere over the rainbow that was shining brightly behind my eyelids.
It was The Dame, shinning a flashlight on my face as she babbled something about a gibbon or ape or something.
"Apppppeeee, theeeee Gibbbbboooon", I babbled incoherently, "can you still see it?" I asked.
"No."
I squeezed my eyes tighter as I shouted "turn that damned light off!". She responded with a quick smack of the torch across my face and babbled "the gibbon, he's over there!" whilst pointing over my shoulder.
"But you just said" .....
"Never mind that !" .....
I tried to stand up, but I was a little woozy. She started babbling again!
She was still babbling and then pointing out a large shadow on the wall.....
"He's here !"
The shadow gradually took shape and became three-dimensional - and hairy.
"Hello", it said in a baritone, dignified voice.
The Dame fainted. I caught her, just before the ape, gibbon - whatever could.....
"Could what?" asked the dignified baritone voice.
The voice eventually ended the silence (I was too distracted by holding the really, really, cute lady to even try and answer) with the explanation "Your internal monologue leaks."
I felt my face redden at the comment. "Say, you're pretty eloquent for an ape", I told him while I carefully deposited the blonde on my creaking couch.
"It's a useful attribute for a psychiatrist," replied the ape, confusingly. "If the young lady that is the subject of your Freudian monologues has not yet engaged your services, I have a proposition that may be of interest."
remembering that private eyes are always hard up for dough, i decided to play it cool and see where it led. "i'm listening," i said to him (coolly).
"I have reason to believe a secretive organisation with the acronym AWL wishes ill on some very good friends of mine and that this young lady knows something about it. Find me details and evidence and I can offer you $300 a day, plus expenses."
intriguing ; could it be the dame wasn't as sweet as she looked ? for 3 large a day i was willing to try to find out, especially if i played it close enough to the vest to keep an eye on the hairy guy for the dame, as well.
"Excellent. However, might I suggest you have your monologue leak looked at before it places you into an uncomfortable situation--some might object to being called a hairy guy."
"Is it the 'hairy', or the 'guy' that worries you?" I said. He looked at me with the strangest expression I had seen on a big hairy guy.
"Well, what would you like me to call you?" I shot back at him (I was getting a little irritated with this fancy-talking big ape).
Just as he opened his big, hairy mouth, I heard a delicate (and might I say, very sexy) little cough from the Dame on the couch.
"Guy," said the ape as the dame raised the banana and pointed it meancingly at the ape who proceeded disappear, dropping an envelope as he fled.
"That's him; he's stalking me," screamed the dame.
She screamed again!
The shadow across the wall drifted onto, and then slowly across, the ceiling before it disappeared as the light flickered and finally extinguished with a fizzle and pop!
"Yes, that was him," I confirmed, then, in a flash of capitalistic insight added, "I manged to fend him off this time but I'm afraid my rates will have to be adjusted due to size of ape, errr, situation I mean."
"What do you mean, 'YOU managed to fend him off this time?", she shot back at me. "I'm the one who remembered to get the banana!"
"Besides, don't you think there might be a tiny conflict of interest if you accept a job offer from him?" she added.
Things were beginning to get a bit tricky.
"Errrm, you heard that part did you?" Thinking quickly, I added, "I only said that in order to get closer to him to find out why he is stalking you."
Thinking to stop this line of conversation, I picked up the envelope that had fallen to the floor. 'Hmm,' I mused, 'a distinctive odor of almonds.'
I carefully turned the envelope over to see who had sent it. My eyes popped open at the name!.
I suddenly found it hard to breathe. This is definitely turning into one of those days where I should just shoot myself and save everyone else the trouble.
"But then you wouldn't be able to protect me," said the blonde in a voice that got my blood flowing in all the wrong directions.
Damn my leaky internal monologue, I thought.
"We still have the small matter to discuss of my fee, " I said, trying to keep my cool and not think about the source of the letter. Of all people, why would she send me an ape-couriered letter?
Some dames just hang around your neck ... like last Christmas' necktie. Or like that sad haunting song you can't forget no matter how many shots of rotgut you pour down your throat.
Now to settle on a fee to save the lady in front of me from the ape, who said he needed to be saved the dame. After that I can concentrate on the letter, even though it was burning my fingers to hold it without opening it.
"My normal fee is $250 a day, plus expenses. But I charge an extra $50 a day if I'm likely to get shot at," I added, chancing my stiletto-shot arm.
She batted those cute little button eyes at me and said, "I thought we settled that earlier. You did take the envelope of cash I gave you."
"Took it. Spent it." "But, hey, you can't blame a guy for trying. So, tell me about the ape."
It all began in a smoky night club in Paris. I was hired for a two week gig, singing and swinging in the Rue de la Rouge.
"The first week was uneventful; few guys tried to hit on me, but no more than usual. It was the start of the second week when things started to get weird".
Now, what to wear for a smoky night club in Paris?
PART TWO
And now a word from our sponsor, "pSoft" fabric softener.<Sound fades out>
Spoiler:
Now, what to wear for a smoky night club in Paris?
Cue in the Intermission medley and serve the refreshments now!
Cigars, cigarettes, cigarillos? Gum? Cocaine?
....Stormy Petrel on a stick!
No I don't think we're offering any of that.
And no chicken on a skewer either!
Oh, dear. Am I very late? I just couldn't decide what to wear.
Why is it so smokey in here? What's all that powdery white stuff? "Gesundheit!"
And who is that chicken running around yelling, "I said NO chicken on a skewer!"
Well, anyway...
Do you think the dots are too much?
Your bow sort of combines the old axiom: "basic black with a rope of pearls"
Oh, dear. I so didn't want to look like my mom. Humm, maybe something different?
Do you think this would catch the eye of those Parisian men?
<FX: Shaky, wavey camera effect indicating flashback. Voiceover.>
Spoiler:
"So there I was on the Wednesday, almost wearing the little black dress and singing some sultry french chansons when two socks walked in, one wearing a safety pin, and sat by the bar and proceeded to order fabric conditioner doubles. A few minutes later they were joined by a tall dark, sunglasses-wearing man carrying a violin case."
I was in the middle of my first set, and directed my most soulful gazes towards them. They were so busy chatting together that not one of them noticed when the song was over.
I wasn't use to being ignored, so I signaled the band for a song change and walked to the edge of the stage.
As the first notes began, I leaned my back against the post, and slowly drew my hand up my body, and grabbed the post behind my head.
The chattering suddenly stopped. A few glassy clinks could be heard over the dripping noise of spilt drinks.
That's more like it, I thought to myself, even the tall dark, sunglasses-wearing man with the violin case is staring at me with his mouth hanging open.
I gave a little flip to my hair and began the first notes of the song.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw the violin case move swiftly up onto the bar. I took a deep breath and hit the floor hoping it would all be over soon.
After rolling around in cigarette buts and peanuts shells for a minute I noticed a distinct lack of the gun fire I had been expecting. Looking up I saw the patrons still staring at me, although for a completely different reason now, and man with the violin case showing some thing in the case to his sock companions.
"You guys wanna score" he muttered out of the corner of his mouth. "I got evrythin' a character made out of a sock could possible need, darning needles, thread, talc, Odour Eater, bits of wool, buttons...know what I mean", he winked.
I was SO embarrassed at misreading the contents of the violin case that I had to have a lie-down back stage. While I was bathing my fevered brows with lavender water I heard a loud knock at my dressing room door.
"Excuse me Ms Noir, but I represent an agency that believes certain clients of this establishment may represent a threat to certain key infrastructures of the United States and we'd like your help in, ummm, studying them. To be precise, the pair of socks," said a disembodied voice from behind the door.
I immediately said "What socks?" And, "Don't you always lose the left sock when you do laundry?"
"Actually, I always find one EXTRA sock in the laundry...", the disembodied voice answered. "And don't pretend you don't know what socks I'm talking about, lady."
I hastily glanced down at my silk stockings. Both were still on my legs.
"And if you are having some doubts about helping, can I remind you about your escapade with the politician, some icecream and an electric toothbrush. Would the photos help you remember?" continued the voice as I thought that i really must open the door.
Oh god, there were photos? I ran to open the door, ready to spill my guts -- anyone's guts -- just to get hold of those photos!
"I see I finally have your attention", the person at the door said. I took a good long look at him and gasped.
It was the ape! In a three-piece sharkskin suit!
Suddenly a strikingly handsome man jumped into the middle of the story! Then, sensing that he was needed elsewhere, he vanished leaving only a hint of what might have been.
The ape smiled a smile like he knew he had me cornered. He was right!
Yum, with that voice and the way the three-piece sharkskin suit fit him, I didn't mind being cornered. I wonder if he likes ice cream and electric toothbrushes?
I sashayed over to the liquor cabinet. Turning back, I asked "Can I get you a drink, big fella?"
I could murder a banana daiquiri, he replied. Then he unbuttoned his coat!
Instantly, I felt a sense of dread! Looking at his bared chest, I realized that it was covered with enough gold chains to make Mr. T stand up and take notice.
The gold chains nestled amidst the long reddish-brown hair that covered his chest. I stepped closer and said "Now, about those photos."
As I started to make my move, I suddenly heard a noise in the hallway. It sounded like the scurrying of dozens of small varmints, or maybe rodents, or quite possibly a herd of dust bunnies.
A chill ran down my spine, followed by something small with four feet running up my spine.
"you will, of course, be accompanied by a little friend of mine," I was informed as my sense of foreboding grew.
"Where are we going?" I asked, as I eyed the squirrel that was now perched on my shoulder nibbling at my hair bow.
The big ape laughed deep in his throat and grabbed my elbow in his strong leathery hands.
It was like being massaged by a rhinoceros with a sledgehammer. Only not so enjoyable.
"Ouch!", I proclaimed, as the ape pushed me towards the door in a not-so-gentle manner. With a snicker he replied "That's why they call me 'The King of the Jungle'."
As the big ape pushed me out the door, I thought I saw two socks, one wearing a safety pin, quickly duck into the room next door. I started to wonder if this was just a bad dream and I needed to wake up.
I wasn't, though I needed to.
"Now get out there and get those socks enamoured with you," insisted the ape.
I slunk sensuously into the next room following the socks. As I peered in through the door, I felt a little flutter of exhilaration as I saw what they were up to.
I spied one sock repairing a hole in the other sock. It was the (cue the mysterious drum-roll) "darndest" thing I had ever seen!
Adjusting the seam in my nylons, I edged sinuously into the room with the socks. In my huskiest siren voice I said, "Hey guys -- want to practice some safe sox?"
Hearing that proposal, both socks stood at attention. "Threesome?" they said in unison.
I guess they were used to that concept, since the washing machine always eats the left sock in any pair. I was sorry to disillusion them about my intentions, since the one being repaired was just my size!
<And.. ACTION!>
PART THREE
Spoiler:
Just as I was sliding up to the most perfect sized sock, I felt a quick pull on the ribbon in my hair. That hairy ape's little squirrel friend hissed in my ear, "Stay focused on the plan!"
I was a little vague as to what exactly the plan was, to be honest, but if it meant wearing these two comfortable socks then I sure didn't mind. "Ooh, that feels good", I smiled down at them.
One red one, and one blue. I wondered the significance....
Then it came to me -- I could recruit the socks against the big ape. So I said, "Hey guys, got somewhere we can stash this pesky squirrel?"
"Sure!" replied Red Sock. "Let's stuff him in the toaster!"
"You do know I charge by the hour?", I interrupted.
"Look, let me tell it my way, or it wont make any sense", she said.
"OK, lady, it's your dime", I replied.
"If you want to pay me to listen to your little adventure with a couple of socks and a squirrel in a sleazy room (as a big hairy ape watches), it's your call", I said, while leaning back in my chair and getting comfortable again.
The pause was pregnant.
There was a sudden pop; then an odour started to tickle my nose, and also hers, we both looked around and noticed from the opposite side of the room, where the toaster was, a small feather surrounded by an increasingly large plume of smoke.
I quickly doused the smoking toaster with a tumbler of gin. It was then that I noticed the toaster contained a small pheasant, and the squirrel was no where to be found!
"Wait!", he exclaimed.
"What?", she asked.
'Squirrel!' he thought ....
'Pheasant!' she thought; and slowly started to faint, (delicately).
When she awoke, she found a nicely roasted pheasant awaiting her, along with a nice glass of Chianti. "Hmm," she thought. "Chianti with pheasant? What could this possibly mean?"
A date ?
Or a mean devilish trick ..... !
Not wanting to appear rude, she cautiously took a bite of the pheasant. It was prepared on the rare side, which enhanced the gamy nature of the bird.
"At least it wasn't chicken again" I thought, as I carefully spit out some bird-shot. But why did we stop for dinner?
"Surely it must be closer to time for high tea." I thought to myself. "Unless, of course, someone had changed the settings on grandfather's clock!"
Through the haze I suddenly realized I was hallucinating. Someone had poisoned me!
I looked out the window and saw the large hairy shadow again. This time there was no mistaking the harsh quality of his eerie laughter!
'What is happening', I thought, 'am I hallucinating, is that really an ape out there, and me indoors with a lady client eating pheasant'?
Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something; but then felt a sharp pain on the side of my head.
Sometime later, who knows how much later, I opened my eyes and found myself on a silk-sheeted bed wearing blue flannel jammies with kitties on them. My head was jumping and throbbing like I had a juke joint going full tilt behind my eyes.
I shook my head to clear out the rumba music playing in the background. Looking around, I was surprised by my surroundings.
Since when had my bed have 4-posts? Since when had there been pink wallpaper on my walls and black sheets on my bed ?
This room looked more like a bad bordello scene in a Pee Wee Herman movie than anything else. Rising slowly to a sitting position I noticed something peculiar in the corner of the room.
The apparently dead body of the ape was slumped in a pool of blood and custard. The only clue was the signed room service receipt for dessert and a bottle of bubbly.
I tentatively tasted the custard. It was still warm.
The bottle of bubbly was still corked. There was no sign of the dame....
I finished the custard and champagne, a mistake I won't make again. Burping up custard, I stooped to examine the body.
But then the body twitched. I staggered back, slightly the worse for wear after the champagne and custard.
I hoped the twitching indicated he was still alive. One because I was having a hard time imagining how I was going to remove the dead body of an 800 pound primate without a lot questions being asked, and even more importantly, he'd not yet paid my fee for the day
After first locating and removing his wallet, I began slapping the ape to wake him up. He suddenly lunged at me, as his fetid banana laden breath washed over my face.
I chuckled to myself as the ape missed me completely and fell flat on his face. I chuckled a second time when I realized "slapping the ape" could have more than one meaning.
Unfortunately the ape wasn't laughing. As he pulled himself up by climbing up the door jamb, he pulled the biggest heater I had ever seen out of his hip pocket!
It must have been 12 inches long, with shiny new filaments. I'd bet that baby could keep the whole bedroom toasty warm on a snowy winter day.
"Whatcha lookin' at bud?" snarled the big ape. I'm a tropical species and need constant heat!
I offered him my pyjamas, seeing as I still had a decent suit on underneath. "I may need to keep warm" he said, "but I aint stooping that low."
So then I offered him my airplane ticket to the Tropics. He took it and left the room without a word, never to be seen again. (what was I thinking?)
So, I thought, is that the case solved? What to do now - that plane ticket didn't pay for itself.....
I decided to follow him to the airport and get a photo of him getting on the plane. Proof may be required to collect my money from the blonde.
But ! Ah! the camera phone. Where is it, I wondered as I quickly ran.....
I ran into the street wildly hailing a taxi! One screeched up to the curb and I jumped in -- and there was the blonde in the back seat with a glass of champagne in her hand!
"Well, hello there", she simpered, holding out another filled glass. Please take a seat and update me on the situation, pronto".
"Nix the drink, doll-face." I said. "We've got more important things to do!"
"You should never turn down a free drink, Private Investigator Sledgehammer," she said with a smile that could freeze the warts of a horned toad. "Especially from strangers who not only know your name, but also have more inside information on the case you're working than you could begin to imagine--and also know more that you realize about just how deep this particularly twisted rabbit hole goes."
"WTF! I thought we were in a taxi!" I shouted, looking wildly about for the exit.
She shoved a leperous distilment of a cocktail into my hand, and stared deep into my eyes. "So!" she said, "what's going on?"
Then my blood froze as I heard the taxi driver laugh. It was the ape -- in a badly fitting jacket and cap!
I asked the dame for a smoke. As she lit the match, I grabbed the matchbook and used it to ignite the drink!
Flames flamed everywhere all at once and indeed at once. The dames' hair caught!
So did the ape's fur! As they started beating out each others flames, I jumped from the taxi!
I ran into the closest gin joint, and stood gasping at the bar. Of all the gin joints, in all the boroughs of New York, I had to stumble into this one!
But there in the corner, what! No Never ..... An ape! playing the piano .....
I shuffled over to the cigarette-smoke scarred piano, and tapped the ape on the shoulder. "You know what I want to hear..." I mumbled to the ape; "go ahead and play it...Play something from...Banarama."
I ordered a gin, not the flaming sort this time, as I listed to the mellow sounds of the piano and distant sounds of fire trucks out side on the street. Just as I thought of my next request, the front door swung open bringing in a squeel of tires, a siren winding down, a small wisp of smoke, and ... No! it couldn't be, not here!!!
In walked the most down-trodden clown I had ever seen. He wore a ratty orange wig, had a torn purple nose, and his clothes hadn't been laundered since Prohibition was repealed.
"The first one who offers to smell my flower gets drilled" he snarled. I'm not a happy clown!
I wondered, once again, of all the joints I could have waltzed into, and it had to be this crazy son of a crazy gin store!
"Bartender", I yelled, "Two gins for me, and whatever the ape and the clown are having, make it three each;" I'll get to the bottom of this case if it means killing me before both these two jack-asses are too drunk to realise what was happening; meanwhile, the Dame ?
I downed the first gin, and turned to the clown. "Have you heard the one about the Rabbi, the Priest, and the monkey in leather chaps?" I asked, already knowing the answer.
"You know the answer" they both said, in unison. I was surprised at their synchronicity, as they each looked around.
Gazing into the back corner of the bar, I spotted a flash of platinum blond hair. After buying the ape and the clown another round, I started for the back corner.
I was astounded. When I reached the corner, not only was the blonde sitting there, but also the ape and the clown!
Looking back at the bar, I saw the ape and clown rolling dice, in the same spot I had just left. At that exact moment, the garish neon lights illuminated the clown's bloodshot eyes, exposing what I can only describe as a loving glance at the ape.
It was bizarre. I saw a flash; it started near the doorway and shone around the room until it eventually lit up the back corner.
I closed my eyes to avoid the bright light, but I could see it right through my eyelids! Then I heard a loud bang next to my left ear!
How I wondered, did the ape suddenly get to my left side and discharge that pistol. In the corner, the clown sat; with a look of astonishment on his face, he clasped a white-gloved hand over a bright red stain that slowly and inexorably increased in size.
I watched as the clown tried unsuccessfully to stem the spread of the ketchup stain; it finally dawned on him that it must have been the ape who loosened the top of the ketchup bottle. The clown now knew how it felt to be on the receiving end of a prank, and he didn't much like the feeling.
I looked again at the ape and saw that in his hand he had a ketchup bottle. How on earth had I mistaken that for a pistol; in my old age I could see this case was heading towards being my final one .....
PART FOUR
<<<mysterious blond bimbo leaning over passed out detective and slapping his face to wake him up>>>
Spoiler:
Next thing I know is that the Dame is leaning over me and having a conversation with someone about ZCD's and not giving them to people who can't handle temporal space time somethings.
"What? Huh?", I manage to say.
I manage to sit up and realize that I am still in my office with the Dame and the ape.
"What the ?", I say, as I put my hand to my head.
"Silly boy" she crooned to me. "Can't hold your liquor eh?"
'Gosh', I thought, 'the twists and turns of modern life. Who would have thought it....'
Something had been bothering me about the ape, bothering me since I first laid my peepers on him. It finally came to me; his fur looked 'odd', as if it was made of something other than ape hair.
It had that look you see with squirrel coats. I began to observe the big lug more closely.
His eyes were blue, too blue, the kind of blue you only see in movies, and they stared right into your soul. He also had a gait that could only be described as a 'pimp roll', and I was afraid.
The ape eyed me eyeing him and eyed me back, in spades. It was a look that could turn your bowels to water in an instant.
Try as I might, I could not take my eyes of him. But then there was another flash, and the clown and the dame rushed out - hand in hand, leaving me and the "ape".
I ducked under the ape's arm and ran after the dame. The clown had hung behind and tripped me as I ran into the street!
Sprawling, I hit the ground hard. Immediately I felt a huge weight leap onto my back.
A taxi door was open. The dame rushed in and sat down.
Laughing manically, she slammed the taxi door shut with a deafening thud. The taxi's cloud of exhaust, further polluting the already rank city smell, was the last thing I saw before the lights went out.
Remembering the, several, reminder and over due notices I'd received from the power company did nothing to lighten my mood. Nor the oppressive weight on my back that smelled faintly of gin.
Through a combination of wriggling and porpoising, I managed to free myself from the juniper bush that I had inexplicably been trapped under. Tentatively rising to my feet, I saw the dame's taxi disappear around the corner at the end of the street.
I stumbled back into the gin joint, looking for the clown and ape; as I expected, they had flown the coop. Glancing down the well-worn bar, I glimpsed a dame who looked suspiciously like blondie, with the exception of her startling flaming-red hair.
I began to wonder if life was playing one of her amazing tricks on my mind and senses. It did not help my sanity that the red-head was gently stroking a mangy looking cur ....
I heard a strange, staccato rapping noise coming from the darkest corner of the bar. Shambling over and peering into the darkness, there it was; a drunken roll of wrapping paper, huddled next to a slightly less drunk ape!
I really did start to question my sanity; and there it was, rolling about on the floor in full view.
"Hallucinationary drinks have this effect," she said, "here, have a glass of fresh untainted water, whilst I get myself sorted and then you can start taking notes on the case I have in mind for you."
I slipped into the comfortable leather chair and drank the proffered water. As I sat there gazing at blondie, I wondered when she began speaking with a slight British accent, and what that little observation might mean.
"Now, my dear fellow," she said, "what is your understanding of how the World works when in a mysterious frame of reference? I have a proposition to place before you; but first, are you licenced to pilot a ship into Outer Space?"
I shook my head again, and tried another sip of water. Too late, I noticed the tell-tale aftertaste on my tongue!
Damn Cherry Cola! Don't they ever wash the glasses in this dive?
"What sort of a ship?" I asked. Whilst awaiting her answer, I thought back to my last trip to 'Outer Space."
It was a ride at Disney World, and I remember crashing into the moon. This job didn't promise to turn out any better, but at least I was being paid.
"Outer Space", I asked. "What the hell do you mean, Outer Space?".
"And another thing", I croaked, as blondie crossed her legs in the chair across from me. "Who are you and why did you really hire me?"
"For a big-time private dick, you sure don't catch on very fast, do you?" blondie replied. "Take a good long look at my face..." she cooed.
I looked deep into those baby blues and felt my knee caps begin to melt. Then I dropped my eyes to her lips and my blood froze.
"Now here's a dame that needs a good rogering!", I remember thinking, "And I'm just the man to do it!" Reaching out, I held her face in my hands.
She murmured, "I didn't know your name was roger." "Please let go of my earrings roger."
"Erm, Ahem, I, I, Um, right," I stuttered, as I sat back in my chair. "Back to business, Who are you and why did you really hire me?"
Curiously, she ignored the question about her identity. "I hired you because I heard you were the best dick in LA." she said.
"Well, THAT got my attention!" Then I realized what she really meant, crossed my legs, and tried to look professional again.
While trying to avoid staring at her ample cleavage, I asked "What exactly DID you hire me for?" Giving up and starting directly at her cleavage, I awaited her answer.
Unfortunately, staring at that cleavage had had a mesmerising effect on me; when no answer was forthcoming I blurted out, "Those are amazing breasts, could I weigh them?". Taking her shocked silence as acquiescence, I grabbed one in each hand and jiggled away, shouting "WAAAAY".
Which soon developed into a scream as she returned the favour by grabbing both my testicles with one hand and giving a short, sudden twist. "If you wanna get your hands on some knockers," she whispered into my ear, "then become a Jehovas Witness, buddy!"
I jerked and slapped myself on the side of the head, to clear that wishful thought and resulting scenario from my head.
I decided to get up and add something a bit stronger to the water in my glass, to clear my head.
Fortifying Tallisker and water in hand I took a deep breath to clear my head and said, "Sorry doll, let's start again, eh?". "OK", she replied, "But no more funny business".
"I wasn't laughing, if you noticed" I replied. "OK - what's the score?"
"2 to 1", she said. "But the game is not over."
"The balls are in your court", I said. "You call the shots .... as long as your money is good and legal; well, at least partly legal, and I don't do drugs - no way lady...."
Eyeing me with what I can only describe as 'significant indifference', she seemed to be trying to make a decision. As I soon found out, that decision would eventually change the course of my life.
It had something to do with the vuvuzela she pulled out from her purse. "OK, smart boy," she purred, "Let's talk about winners now!"
<"Cut! Cut! Are you guys crazy? Has anyone checked what the writers are drinking when they write this stuff?"
Spoiler:
"Someone already tried to dye my hair red for one scene. But, a Vuvuzela! How am I suppose to pull a vuvuzela out of the purse that matches this outfit?"
"That's it! I want a clause in my contract that says the writers stay away from any drink that begins with a 'Z'. "
"What?" Oh, yeah, you can add that too. I'll wear a wig, but no dye jobs."
"Ok, I'm ready to reshoot that last scene with just a little correction I wrote in.">
Spoiler:
Quote:
Originally Posted by poohbear_nc
It had something to do with the vuvuzela.38 she pulled out from her purse. "OK, smart boy," she purred, "Let's talk about winners now!"
PART FIVE
Spoiler:
I stared at that .38 caliber vuvuzela and pondered -- "Where the hell had she concealed that thing?" My mind broke into a cold sweat!
[Edit that dream girl! ]
[Oh, but I love a challenge.]
<"CUT!"
"What is it with the vuvuzela? Do any of you writers know what a vuvuzela is?"
"You! Yes you. What are you doing with that eraser? What do you mean you are his assistant? Since when did writers get to have assistants?"
"Give me that eraser. Yes, I KNOW there was a line through a word in the script, I put it there! See, that word in dark letters next to it? That's called a write-in change to the script."
"Well, of course I can make a change to the script, I'm the STAR!"
"Somebody help this assistant find her boss and while you're at it, check what's in those cups in the writers' lounge."
"Ok, I'm ready to reshoot that last scene, AGAIN.">
Quote:
Originally Posted by poohbear_nc
I stared at that .38 calibervuvuzela and pondered -- "Where the hell had she concealed that thing?" My mind broke into a cold sweat!
While my brain was whirling with images of wanton vuvuzulicity, the broad began speaking again. "Listen," she said, whacking me alongside the head with the v******a, "Here's the lowdown on the job I need you to do for me."
[I spurn your feeble attempts to edit the truth from our manuscript! The truth will out! The truth must out! And the vuvuzela too!]
[]
"Ow, lady, quit whacking me with that v*..v*..v******a!" I said, jumping out of the chair and covering my head with my hands.
"It's about time you noticed, that I'm the one with the vicious looking gun in here," she purred.
"Okay," she said, "the low down on the job; it's all on this list that I prepared whilst you were otherwise engaged by the Green Mob down in the Suite. We need, "she explained with a sultry purr in her voice, "to leave immediately for the Outer Space Casino that is located on the small island on the map that is mentioned in the list; Oh! and don't forget the ape - his orange coat suggests he's a spy for some beer company ....."
How could I forget an ape wearing an orange coat -- try as I might? I sighed and took a gander at the dame's long list!
"Erm," I said.
"This list looks to me like a grocery list "
"Eggs, milk, whipped cream, spotted dick, scotch, pop-tarts, vegetable oil, leather pants for the monkey..." I read with surprise. Then it dawned on me that I was reading my grocery list, not the dame's list.
I grabbed her list and started reading. My eyes popped at the first item: 1. Hose the big ape!
Item number two was equally curious; 'Get the 7 Sheboygan bratwurst from the ape's uncle.' This was going to be trickier than I had imagined.
I pulled my hat brim lower over my eyes and read on. I definitely would need to increase my daily rate to cover these jobs!
The dame was looking at me kinda funny, and I realized it was due to the rumbling noise coming from my stomach. "Hey blondie, how about we skedaddle over to the fried chicken joint and grab some grub?", I suggested.
"Oh no," she shrieked softly, "I NEVER eat chicken." "How could anyone eat food that used to be a cute fluffy little chick?"
"Easy. I just stuff it between my choppers and chow down," I replied with the kind of smile that hadn't crossed my face since the repeal of Prohibition.
The dame fainted dead away, wafting gently to the carpet. I looked down at her for a while, then whistled up a taxi and said "KFC - $20 tip if we get back before she wakes up."
I was just finishing the last chicken wing and thinking to myself, that for such a little thing she sure does snore, when I saw her eyes open.
"'Bout time you woke up, Blondie," I said, as I picked a piece of chicken out of my teeth.
"Okay," I said; feeling somewhat full and fed-up in equal measure, "shall we not get this show on the road, and let me start earning this pittance you are offering?".
"Sure, why not?" she said whilst nibbling on a spare rib that she found tucked away in the box, "let's up and away now we've eaten, there's a bus leaving in 5 minute....."
"Hey lady," I growled "I never travel in anything other than a taxi." "And just where the hell are we going?"
"Fine!", she growled back at me, and I thought to myself, that she's kind of cute when she growls, even though she snores like a drunk.
"Ill fill you in as we get going," she said.
"Fine" I said and whistled up a cab. When I opened the door for the dame, a hairy arm shot out of the back of the cab and pulled the dame into the cab, which then sped away in a choking exhaust cloud.
"What, no way - this wasn't in any script I read or heard."
My hand held the luggage rack as tightly as I could as the cab sped off, I coughed as the exhaust fumes ticked the back of my throat - but no way was I going to let this dame and that monkey leave without me........there was my reputation to consider - that plus this dame was my first job since the Spring Contest ......
Unfortunately for me, my hands were covered in chicken grease! I was losing my grip when the cab suddenly slowed down.
I shot over the top of the cab, cursing the flimsy paper napkins provided by KFC! As I landed on the hood, I saw the big ape pull the blonde out of the cab and run into a run-down brownstone row house.
Wiping the chicken grease on my pants leg, I pulled my gat and ran after the ape. Slowly, I tiptoed around the corner, down the steps, and through the door left swinging in the wind by the ape; I was immediately attacked by an odor so foul I almost yakked up some fowl.
I held my breath and ran towards the closing door at the end of the hall. Suddenly, the door slammed open and the ape and the blonde exploded out the door and ran toward me.
Again, I was bombarded by the foulest stench that had ever fouled New York, which is really strange, considering we're in Los Angeles. I beat feet out of the hallway and grabbed a lungful of air.
And immediately began coughing out lungfuls of LA smog. Damn it tasted good!
It was kinda like chewing on the tailpipe of a '43 Ford. Only better.
NOTICE: This thread is on hiatus due to the writer's strike.
ACTUALLY ONE OF THE WRITERS IS TRAPPED IN THE "WIN AN IPAD' THREAD SPINNING AN ENDLESS SAGA UNTIL THE PRIZE IS AWARDED. THEN I'LL RETURN TO SPINNING AN ENDLESS SAGA HERE! I ONLY HAVE 2 HANDS! AND I'M AT WORK!
As I straightened up, I noticed the ape had taken a powder, but the dame was still there, straightening out the seam in her stocking and muttering "Damn -- another pair of hose ruined!"
"More than intimate apparel is ruined, sweetheart" I snarled.
"Do you even know how hard it is to find a good pair of stockings?" she snarled, as she put her hands on her hips and glared at me.
"And stop that coughing!" she added.
"So, what was all that about?" I asked. And coughed some more.
[Boy, you neglect a thread for a few days and then it's really hard work to catch up. You guys were excellent ]
PART SIX
Spoiler:
"Somebody stole the ape's orange coat," she muttered as she straightened the seams on her stockings.
"His coat? *cough, cough*". I almost get killed on a wild taxi ride, fall off the roof, chase you two into a foul-smelling brownstone, *cough* and you tell me it's about that ugly ape's orange coat? *cough, cough*," I squeaked out.
"Well, your fee was in the coat's inside pocket" she purred, "so I guess you might want to care about it -- a little."
Damn that sneaky dame, no matter what I do we always come back to that farking ape.
"And what was in the building - what was the smell - why all the running in and out?" I hated feeling clueless (and penniless) , but you'd think I'd have been used to it by now.
The dame just simpered at me, giving me that old "wouldn't you like to know" look that usually ended most of my dates. I decided only a tough approach would work with this tomato, so I straightened up and grabbed her by her shoulders and shook her until that ridiculous bow flew off her soft, silky, fragrant hair.
Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed some kind of code written on it as it fell to the ground. I hurriedly let the blonde fall and picked it up.
As I bent over to get her bow, a swift kick from a stiletto heel got my attention fast. So did the follow-up fall into the stinking puddle in the gutter.
When I got up, the dame was gone, and my stench was so foul that I figured my nose wouldn't even notice the difference if I went into the building now. Always remember to see the positive side of things, I thought, as I ventured inside the dark and smelly interior, intent on finding the truth.
It was a dark and gloomy interior corridor that I slowly inched my way into. Step by step, foot by foot, heartbeat by heartbeat, blink by blink, breath by breath, I stole down the corridor.
At the end of the dank, fetid hallway I glimpsed a tarnished brass door knob, and like a chump I grabbed it and tried to open the door. That's when the building fell in on me -- literally!
"EARTHQUAKE!", I yelled, as I watch the building crumble around the doorway I was gripping for dear life.
The falling brick was piling up, and I just knew I would be buried alive (and without my money from the dame).
I remembered my Boy Scout training and dove under a massive oak desk that was just inside the doorway. Feeling a strange wetness on my leg, I looked down fearing the worst; what I found instead was a tipped over bottle of bourbon, which I quickly downed.
When the dust cleared, the building was empty -- and so was the bottle. Feeling no pain, I staggered out onto the sidewalk and waved for a cab.
The cab drew up, skidding through the puddle at the kerb and drenching me and all the others on the sidewalk. In the driving seat was a hairy APE !!!!!!!
Clearing my blurred eyes, I realized that it was just Joe, in his usual un-shaven state. "Take me to my office, pronto!" I growled at Joe.
Joe got me safely back to my home turf, where I locked and bolted the door before settling down with my office bottle of bourbon and a headfull of questions. Not to mention a headfull of plaster dust from the wrecked building.
As I sat in my hard wooden chair, pondering the last 24 hours, out of the corner of my eye I spotted an envelope being shoved under my door. Whoever had delivered the envelope was long gone by the time I staggered to the door; opening the envelope, I pulled out the single page and read the note: "Meet me on Sunset Blvd at Norma Desmond's old place."
"Gee, I wonder if the swimming pool is still filled." I wasn't about to repeat someone elses mistake.
During the drive, I tried to piece together what had happened since the dame walked into my office, but none of it made sense. It was as if a plethora of strangers had control over my life...and for that matter, when the hell did I start using words like "plethora?"
But then I pondered again on the events of the last 24 hours and thought 'was it only 24 hours, it felt more like weeks; and with a big bunch of people pulling my movements every which way as though they had no idea as to where and when I would end up.'
No wonder I felt like a Puppet on Strings.
I snuck another pull from my hip flask, shook the rest of the plaster dust out of my hair, and tried to focus on the upcoming meeting. Who would be waiting for me on Sunset Blvd?
the car pulled up to a halt.
i exited and started the walk to the door to Norma Desmond's old place; 'sheesh', i thought, this hasn't changed since the last time i was here, back in the bad old days when men were men and the apes were, erm, still apes......
Walking up to the massive oak doors, I remember thinking "What knockers!" They were as ornate as any I had ever seen, great big lion's heads with rings hanging from the mouth.
I gave in.
There was no way I was going into that joint, again ..... not after that last time ....
On the other hand... what other lead did I have? I considered the knockers thoughtfully.
The left one growled at me. I did a double-take, and then yowled loudly, as the right one snapped at my finger.
That did it. Now, .....'where's the back entrance', there had to be one ...
"Oh come back you big sissy," the knockers called after me, "we were just being playful - you have no idea how boring it is to be us: no one ever comes by!" They opened the door for me, rolling their eyes.
It was the eyes that kept my attention, as they rolled, and I sidled past into the dark interior of the old place. As I remember, it was dark, dank, with a faint perfume of cigarette smoke, stale cologne and a musty smell as if from wet fur !
Illuminated by the glow from the fireplace were two nylon-clad legs stretched across the divan. The rest of the body was hidden in shadow.
A spark shot from the fire and momentarily lit the body that was lounging across the divan. I shuddered; looked again before the light extinguished, and gasped in wonderment....
"Mrs. Shagalott?" I stammered. What was my third grade teacher doing here?
I thought I saw a hint of recognition flash across her face, and then in a instant was gone. But then, the face was in shadow, and those legs?
Then I realised, it was a trick of the light, there was no way those legs belonged to Mrs Shagalott, who always wore woollen stockings whilst these were definitely silk, especially with those killer heels.....
Suddenly a pop, and the lights came on....
And there was my bimbo client again! And boy was she smirking at me - the prime chump in her universe!
"Come sit by the fire with me," she cooed, as I realized my mouth was hanging open.
I tried to act nonchalant, as I slowly walked closer to the fire.
Which turned out to be far harder than I imagined, since my mouth was still trying to hang the "open for business" sign somewhere it shouldn't have been hung.
My client appeared torn between helping my mouth out or slapping it.
I sank onto the sofa next to the dame, straightened my tie, cleared my throat, and said "Fancy meeting you here doll face. What's the gig?"
"It's the little carriage I use to exercise my horse Marengo. But that's not important right now."
I resisted the impulse to slap some sense into her. Then I tried again, "So, did you slide the note under my door, or is this some sort of cosmic unholy coincidence?"
As her eyes defocused and deconverged, I could sensible the mental griding of gears as she attempted to interpret my question and generate a suitable answer.
"Yes," she said some time later, as smoke started to drift out of her right ear.
I threw the melted ice cubes from my drink into her face to snap her out of whatever fugue state she was in, and she promptly slapped my face!
"That's better doll face, now you're speaking my language!"
"Lbh sbby! Lbh'ir fubeg pvephvgrq zl ibpny cebprffbe jvgu gung jngre."> >"You fool! You've short circuited my vocal processor with that water."<<
"Oh great, I thought, this is just what I need. She's obviously been kidnapped by some weird religious cult and is speaking in tongues."
Device: Sony 505| K Fire | KK 3G+Wi-Fi | iPhone 3Gs |Vista 32-bit Hm Prem w/FF
"Yes.. uh.. no.. huh?... I'm so confused."
"I do know that some blue alien, named omk3, decided to start a crazy mystery to expand creative typing beyond 4 words.. so here we are.. in the middle of an ever growing mystery (with story tags on the ceiling)."
Device: Sony 505| K Fire | KK 3G+Wi-Fi | iPhone 3Gs |Vista 32-bit Hm Prem w/FF
"You can help me figure out what you, me, and the ape are doing in this mystery. Then again, the word on the forums is that wearing leather-studded bustiers pays well."
"Well," she purred, whilst zipping up that leather contraption, "here's the real deal. You've got to find and return to me the extremely compromising letter that the big ape stole from my sequined handbag."
"You mean this one?" I said, showing her the big ape's most recent blog post. On reflection, it was a bad idea to do this on the iPad as her displeasure was not beneficial to the iPad's continuing operation.
Unfortunately, whilst I was struggling to remove the image of that unzipping leather bustier from my mind that had been triggered by the idea of photos of her, my mouth got carried away.
"Could you describe the photos for me?" I found myself saying.
07-04-2010, 03:09 AM
[Oh, but I love a challenge.]
"
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