A WORK OF FICTION BY ME (only read if you're awesome)
I had a job to do. An important one. No sir, her sweet perfume and criss-crossed nylon leg coverers weren't going to sway me. She leaned against the doorway and it creaked in pain. Or perhaps that was her ass. The Lord God Savior likes to keep mysteries in the world, and far be it from me to question him. I'm a detective, and she's a not-detective. Or maybe she is a detective.
"Are you a detective?" I asked as she sucked on her tobacco tube.
"No," she cooed as hot smoke plumed from her lips. She reminded me of a toaster oven with a bagel in it, one of those toaster ovens that doesn't have the "bagel" setting so it just burns your bagel all to shit. I stood up from my desk, hitting my open desk drawer forcefully with my thighs. The drawer tore in half and fell to the floor.
"Obviously this desk was made by Thailandians. They're known for their poor drawer making abilities." I stated, brushing fragments of the drawer off my grey slacks. She walked towards me, slowly, then quick, then slowly, then quick again. I noticed that her one leg was dragging, thus explaining her erratic gait. "What happened to your leg?" I motioned to the limp appendage.
"I maimed it making candles," her voice was soft and smooshy. "I've got a real bad problem, Mister." I stepped out from behind my desk. A mouse scurried by, carrying with it a baby carrot.
"I think you are a real bad problem, lady," I countered. She arched her bushy eyebrow at me. "I like real bad problems though. I eat 'em for lunch, tucked inside a Ziploc bag with marinara sauce." My voice was strong and bitter, like nickels. She shivered.
"You sure know how to excite a woman," she said, inhaling on her cigarette.
"I also know how to make a hippo out of a dollar bill. That and ten cents will get you a whole lot of nothing, so let's cut the crap." She shuffled towards me, her high heel slipping off of her dead leg, clattering behind her.
"I've got a nasty locust infestation in my kitchen. They're eatin' up all my cheddar cheese. And you know, I love my cheddar cheese."
"Really? Dairy products always give me the runs. Now why do you think I can help you? Do I look like an exterminator?" I leaned towards her, breathing in her scent. She reminded me of moldy showers and corn soup.
"You're wearing an exterminator's jumpsuit and you have a backpack loaded with pesticides. Also, the sign outside says, "Paul's Extermination Co. - Specializing in Locust Infestations, Especially Those Occurring in Kitchens" She went to puff on her cigarette, but instead it was sucked down her wide, manly throat. She coughed thrice and then looked at me again.
"That's understandable. Well, I'll need payment." I saw the mouse from before come back out and look gleefully at her foot. He galloped towards it, a stallion in matted grey fur and covered in bubonic plague-infected fleas.
"How much?" She reached for her purse, a large, black trashbag.
"Two tickets to a Rush concert and a pair of terrycloth shorts."
"Anything else?" She rummaged through her bag as the mouse feasted upon her toes.
"One night with you." I stared at her intently, she tried to stare back. Unfortunately, her one eye strayed northwards no matter how much she tugged and pulled on it.
"Are you trying to seduce me, Paul?" She let go of her eye and placed her hand on her hip.
"Does a dolphin hate Floridians? You know the answer to that one, sweetbread." She smiled, I smiled, the mouse smiled. We went outside and we hopped atop my donkey and we began the 300 mile pilgrimage to the Holy Land. As I said, the Lord God Savior likes to have mysteries, and you'll never know just when he'll drop a fine, dead legged whale woman on your doorstep. So be prepared! EXCELSIOR!
"Are you a detective?" I asked as she sucked on her tobacco tube.
"No," she cooed as hot smoke plumed from her lips. She reminded me of a toaster oven with a bagel in it, one of those toaster ovens that doesn't have the "bagel" setting so it just burns your bagel all to shit. I stood up from my desk, hitting my open desk drawer forcefully with my thighs. The drawer tore in half and fell to the floor.
"Obviously this desk was made by Thailandians. They're known for their poor drawer making abilities." I stated, brushing fragments of the drawer off my grey slacks. She walked towards me, slowly, then quick, then slowly, then quick again. I noticed that her one leg was dragging, thus explaining her erratic gait. "What happened to your leg?" I motioned to the limp appendage.
"I maimed it making candles," her voice was soft and smooshy. "I've got a real bad problem, Mister." I stepped out from behind my desk. A mouse scurried by, carrying with it a baby carrot.
"I think you are a real bad problem, lady," I countered. She arched her bushy eyebrow at me. "I like real bad problems though. I eat 'em for lunch, tucked inside a Ziploc bag with marinara sauce." My voice was strong and bitter, like nickels. She shivered.
"You sure know how to excite a woman," she said, inhaling on her cigarette.
"I also know how to make a hippo out of a dollar bill. That and ten cents will get you a whole lot of nothing, so let's cut the crap." She shuffled towards me, her high heel slipping off of her dead leg, clattering behind her.
"I've got a nasty locust infestation in my kitchen. They're eatin' up all my cheddar cheese. And you know, I love my cheddar cheese."
"Really? Dairy products always give me the runs. Now why do you think I can help you? Do I look like an exterminator?" I leaned towards her, breathing in her scent. She reminded me of moldy showers and corn soup.
"You're wearing an exterminator's jumpsuit and you have a backpack loaded with pesticides. Also, the sign outside says, "Paul's Extermination Co. - Specializing in Locust Infestations, Especially Those Occurring in Kitchens" She went to puff on her cigarette, but instead it was sucked down her wide, manly throat. She coughed thrice and then looked at me again.
"That's understandable. Well, I'll need payment." I saw the mouse from before come back out and look gleefully at her foot. He galloped towards it, a stallion in matted grey fur and covered in bubonic plague-infected fleas.
"How much?" She reached for her purse, a large, black trashbag.
"Two tickets to a Rush concert and a pair of terrycloth shorts."
"Anything else?" She rummaged through her bag as the mouse feasted upon her toes.
"One night with you." I stared at her intently, she tried to stare back. Unfortunately, her one eye strayed northwards no matter how much she tugged and pulled on it.
"Are you trying to seduce me, Paul?" She let go of her eye and placed her hand on her hip.
"Does a dolphin hate Floridians? You know the answer to that one, sweetbread." She smiled, I smiled, the mouse smiled. We went outside and we hopped atop my donkey and we began the 300 mile pilgrimage to the Holy Land. As I said, the Lord God Savior likes to have mysteries, and you'll never know just when he'll drop a fine, dead legged whale woman on your doorstep. So be prepared! EXCELSIOR!