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- #281
Njaco
The Pop-Tart Whisperer
It was a hot and sweltering day as I sat in my office doing a Suduko puzzle. The kind of day where the corn pops out in the fields and crows think its snow and you watch them freeze to death. Damn numbers just made the humidity that much heavier. I put the puzzle down, grabbed a book by Danielle Steel and leaned back in my chair, the sweat sticking to the pleather.
Suddenly there was a knock on my door.
I was glad that my office door had a full pane of clear glass (past experience taught me) as I could see there was a frumpy looking man standing in front of it. He looked to be in his 40s and was wearing an ill fitting tan suit jacket that he must have picked up from the Martha Stewart collection at K-Mart. He also hadn't taken a bath or shaven in weeks. I motioned him in and pointed to the chair that was in front of my desk. He slowly entered, looked around the room and then carefully sat down. As he settled in, the cushion of the chair made a flatulent sound and I smiled. It always does that to me.
"Can I help you?" I asked,and noticed that he had one fingernail on his left hand manicured and painted in Peter Max shades of color.
"Are you Sam Slade, the detective?" he answered with a hormone injected voice.
"Who wants to know?" Without his seeing, I slowly opened a drawer underneath the desk where I kept a flare gun for defense.
"My name is Clyde. I'm from Scotland and I want you to find somebody." He said this without looking in my eyes. His glance was flirting around the room until he came upon the velvet picture of Michael Jackson that hung next to the bathroom door.
"Is that.....?"
I cut him off. "Ahhh, Scotland. That garret of the earth - that knuckle-end of England - that land of Calvin, oatcakes, and sulphur. Who you looking for?" I reached into the drawer but grabbed a tickle feather instead of the gun. I forgot I had it in there for "special" reasons. A trickle of sweat started to roll down the left side of his forehead and past his eye.
"My girlfriend. She met somebody and has taken off. I want you to find her."
Another missing person case. I swore I wasn't going to take another one since the last caper I had nearly killed me. But with the economy the way it was and Germany getting beat by Spain, things weren't looking good. A case was a case.
"Who did she scamper off with?" I asked and slowly closed the drawer. On my pinkie finger and I bit my lip from the pain.
"I never met him but I found a picture of him that she left in one of her Women's magazines." He pulled out a crumpled polaroid from his suit pocket and slid it across the desk. I grabbed it and brought it up to my eyes.
One look was all I needed.
With a shout of "Hell No!!" I immediately got up and grabbed him by the collar of the suit and started to drag him to the door. He began to protest but a quick slap across his scalp with my free hand shut him up. Opening the door, I tossed him into the hallway and stood there with the photo in my hand. Although it was hot, a chill went up my neck and I had a sudden urge to pee. Flicking the photo at him, I barked, "Stay the hell away! I don't do missing persons, especially from Scotland!!" and slammed the door.
I sat back down in my chair. No more missing persons. Especially this one. Nope. Not on your life or my life! No where, no how was I gonna get Lucky!!
I picked up the paperback and sweated through Chapter 13.
Suddenly there was a knock on my door.
I was glad that my office door had a full pane of clear glass (past experience taught me) as I could see there was a frumpy looking man standing in front of it. He looked to be in his 40s and was wearing an ill fitting tan suit jacket that he must have picked up from the Martha Stewart collection at K-Mart. He also hadn't taken a bath or shaven in weeks. I motioned him in and pointed to the chair that was in front of my desk. He slowly entered, looked around the room and then carefully sat down. As he settled in, the cushion of the chair made a flatulent sound and I smiled. It always does that to me.
"Can I help you?" I asked,and noticed that he had one fingernail on his left hand manicured and painted in Peter Max shades of color.
"Are you Sam Slade, the detective?" he answered with a hormone injected voice.
"Who wants to know?" Without his seeing, I slowly opened a drawer underneath the desk where I kept a flare gun for defense.
"My name is Clyde. I'm from Scotland and I want you to find somebody." He said this without looking in my eyes. His glance was flirting around the room until he came upon the velvet picture of Michael Jackson that hung next to the bathroom door.
"Is that.....?"
I cut him off. "Ahhh, Scotland. That garret of the earth - that knuckle-end of England - that land of Calvin, oatcakes, and sulphur. Who you looking for?" I reached into the drawer but grabbed a tickle feather instead of the gun. I forgot I had it in there for "special" reasons. A trickle of sweat started to roll down the left side of his forehead and past his eye.
"My girlfriend. She met somebody and has taken off. I want you to find her."
Another missing person case. I swore I wasn't going to take another one since the last caper I had nearly killed me. But with the economy the way it was and Germany getting beat by Spain, things weren't looking good. A case was a case.
"Who did she scamper off with?" I asked and slowly closed the drawer. On my pinkie finger and I bit my lip from the pain.
"I never met him but I found a picture of him that she left in one of her Women's magazines." He pulled out a crumpled polaroid from his suit pocket and slid it across the desk. I grabbed it and brought it up to my eyes.
One look was all I needed.
With a shout of "Hell No!!" I immediately got up and grabbed him by the collar of the suit and started to drag him to the door. He began to protest but a quick slap across his scalp with my free hand shut him up. Opening the door, I tossed him into the hallway and stood there with the photo in my hand. Although it was hot, a chill went up my neck and I had a sudden urge to pee. Flicking the photo at him, I barked, "Stay the hell away! I don't do missing persons, especially from Scotland!!" and slammed the door.
I sat back down in my chair. No more missing persons. Especially this one. Nope. Not on your life or my life! No where, no how was I gonna get Lucky!!
I picked up the paperback and sweated through Chapter 13.
