Private Dick, Chapter 29

More Oren Trough adventures!

The following may be grammatically incorrect, to highlight the

main character's lack of smarts!  Also, what do I look like, an editor?

     I had decided to take a break from doing absolutely nothing and go to lunch; and so I decided to check out 'Bendigo's' a new restaurant that I'd heard good things about; actually, I'd never heard anyone actually say anything about the place, but it was right next door to my office, and the smells wafting in my open window filled my face, so I mumbled to myself, "Yeah, what the hell?  I've got zero clients, and two dollars burning a hole in my pocket," I don't want you to get the idea that the fire department needed to be called to stick a water hose down my pants.  No, I'm speaking figuratively, not literally.  "and boy, does that cooking grease smell make me hungry!"  So, I decided to check it out. 

 

 

     I walked outside and down the sidewalk to their front door.  A warning door-bell that sounded like an angry claxon announced my arrival like somebody important and I walked to the cashier, a teenage girl who looked about as interested as someone who's not.

 

     "Welcome to Bendigo's," she announced like she'd be happier if I would turn around and not be there.

 

     "Yes, I'm new here; what would you recommend?"

 

     "I'd recommend that you eat somewhere else," she mumbled.

 

     "I'm sorry?" I then said, because I must have heard wrongly.

 

     "Oh, I was just saying why don't you try the 'Bendigo's Meat Hammer', that's a triple patty burger that's deep fried, and it comes with a side of cheesy-fries, and our famous sour cream-mayonnaise-cheese dipping sauce."

 

     That sounded good, as I was trying to watch my dick-figure, so I ordered that to go, figuring I'd take it back to my office, you know, just in case the overwhelming silence was interrupted by a ringing phone, and was told to have a seat and she'd call my name when it was ready. 

 

 

     I found an empty chair and sat watching the sit-down diners.  As I watched, a man wearing what looked to be a white garbage bag tried to lift the hamburger he was eating to his face, but a big glop of something greasy and resembling a heart attack fell on his shirt.  The man cursed and threw the remaining burger back onto his plate, and gave it a look like, "Screw you!"  At that moment, he looked around to see if anybody had seen his food disaster, saw me, and glared at me like one mean dude.  I quickly looked away at the wall, like the wallpaper pattern was fascinating.  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the man feebly trying to clean it up with a napkin.  I thought, good luck pal; you're going to need a high-pressure fire hose if you hope to clean that crap!  He cursed again and got up to leave, walking by my chair like a bully with s**t on his shirt, glaring at me the whole time. Yeah, it's my fault you are such a clumsy b*****d with a ketchup, mustard, and mayonnaise grease SOS sign on your shirt!  I thought.  As he managed to make it to the door without falling, the indifferent, scowling girl behind the cash register announced my order as ready.  I paid the $1.50 cost, thought about giving her the 50 cent change, laughed inside at the ridiculousness of that thought, put the two quarters in my pocket, grabbed the bag out of her grubby hands, and headed for the door.  Before I got there, the cook came out from the kitchen, and I wished I hadn't have seen him, because upon seeing the person responsible for preparing my meal, I knew I wouldn't be eating any of it, for the man was absolutely repellant.  Never mind the map of Zimbabwe marked in grease on his shirt, it was what he said,

 

     "Heather, I'm going out for a smoke, right after I take a knarly dump." 

 

     I immediately lost my appetite and finished walking out the door, looking for a garbage can to toss my $1.50 worth of food, now reduced    

to about a pound of rubbish, into.  I found a can on the sidewalk right outside, and reluctantly threw the grease-stained bag into it.  I was still starving, but the thought of that cook touching my food made me a bit queasy.  Okay, to be honest, my stomach was threatening to become a hat.   

    

 

     I sat with my stomach growling like my ex-mother-in-law protecting her married cubs, and stretched out of boredom.  I was still starving, but I'd just as soon smack myself in the face with a garden rake, than let Knarly-Dump-Guy cook my food.  With nothing better to do, I decided to leaf through the local paper.  Before going to comics section, like usual, I decided to take a quick gander at the front page.  Immediately, one headline caught my eye; I was trying to scratch an itch, and the corner of the damn paper caught my right eye.

 

     "Son of a b***h!" I screamed, like somehow the newspaper had planned this.

 

     I knew I should have stuck to my normal routine, and went straight to the comics!  I irrationally thought silently.  I tried my best to read through a watering eye, there was a heat wave coming, and...wait just a minute!  There was a story detailing the grand opening of Lincoln Ballast's new business, 'Balloon World'. a business involving blowing.  He'd blow up a balloon in the shape of an animal, or something.   How about in the only shape I gave a s**t about; the shape of 10,000 bucks, the 10,000 bucks he owed me, and swore he didn't have?   Opening a blowing business was no problem, but blowing a little cheddar my way was a no go?  Lincoln Ballast was a case I'd worked on many years ago.  He gave me a waltz about how he couldn't possibly pay, and I swallowed the whole enchilada, hook, line and cheesy topping.  Well, I wasn't going to just forget this, like an animal that doesn't remember too well; I decided I would pay Balloon World a little visit.

 

 

     Before I entered the store, I did a quick check of the Halloween mask I was wearing to disguise my features.  Dick Tracy was securely attached to my face, so I pushed the door open.  Looking back on it now, I'm sure I looked stupid (how many times had I heard that before!) and ridiculous, but I wasn't thinking clearly.  All I could see was pissed, and wanted to see the look on Lincoln Ballast's face.  Anyway, I pushed open the door, and walked up to where Ballast was minding the fort.

 

     "What the f**k?" a clearly-surprised Ballast ejaculated.  "What's with the dick mask?  You look like a dick!"

 

     I ripped off the mask and said, "Ah-ha, now who looks like a dick?

 

     "Still you, Friday!"

 

     "I haven't gone by that name in quite a while; but then you wouldn't know that, because you skipped town without paying me!"

 

     That's when the hand of doom threw a right cross to my head, and my world kaleidoscoped into inky blackness.

 

 

     When I came to, a clown was bobbing in my face.  What the hell?  I thought, and lashed out with my fist.  The clown took the blow and drifted up towards the ceiling.  Turns out, it was a balloon.  I tried to shake the cobwebs from my noodle, and swaying up to a standing position.  The front door was wide open, and the wind was blowing the hell out of the balloons.  There was no sign of Ballast.  Looks like he blindsided my face with one of his meat hooks, and disappeared faster that something fast.   S**t! 

 

 

 

Reviews

[Marie]

This isreally funny stuff. I wonder how this guy decided he could be a private detective in the first place? He hasn't a clue (no pun intended).

[Michael Stevens]

Thanks Marie; and you can't pay close enough attention that you realize it makes NO sense!