The 2-sentences-per-post story (compilation)

[happy_terd]

The 2-sentences-per-post story (starring a mysterious blonde psockpuppet?)

(compilation) (post 1-186)

https://www.mobileread.com/forums/showthread.php?t=84094

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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, incase 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. Thank God; For a while there I was afraid the nightmare was true, and I was stuck in a very bad dime novel. "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". 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!"

(part 2)
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. 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."