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Spoiler ShowYour First/Last
Hospital
I'm Coming Home
Psychological
Detective/Murder Mystery
Past, Present, Future
Hero or Villain?
Trapped in an Elevator/Traffic
24 Hours
A Choice
Confessions
Road Trip
What Frightens You?
note: this work is heavily inspired by Quentin Tarantino. Placeholder title.
Act 1
Coats
The room was dense and long. The rug is pure silk cashmere, a gold-plated antique chair rested against the far wall. On the "hall's" sides were diplomas, degrees, business certificates of excellence and photos. These setpieces show one man with mayors, judges, celebrities, officers. All in his pocket. And this guy has big f***ing pockets.. Over the chair hang coats, some bloodied and others not. A good metaphor for why they are there is a dead buck head, or bear skin. Almost forgot an important detail about the chair: the asshole with his face and name on everything, Terrance Prince. Not so coincidentally he prefers to be called "The King", which if you ask me is to make up for his pecker-
[CLICK] - The tape recorder stops.
"Alright goddamn it, I've heard enough out of you." Now I'm in a police questioning room. If this prick doesn't back off.
"What's the matter, Badger? You asked for my account of what happened, I mean, if you'd rather I tell the press-"
"Listen here you condescending little shit. For the last time, its French. Badgere. Secondly, I don't need your second hand remarks you little cretin. The only reason you're on this case is because the captain isn't convinced you'll f*** it up. I know better." The musty smell of cheap cologne closed in as my "superior" bent over towards my side of the table.
"Anyone can make detective, kid. its nothing special. Any regular guy could shoot some black kid waving around a pellet gun. Your mistake was giving him CPR. His f***ing statement from a hospital bed turned you into a glorified meter maid. You're my bitch now, and maybe I didn't want you on this case but the sooner you go in the ground for waving your badge around like its your cock, the sooner I can give someone who deserves it the job. That little line about city officials in his pocket isn't going to f***ing fly either pal."
I grind my teeth at this ham stays in my face. I swear to God, this won't end well for him. So I'll smile,
"Alright, jeez. I'll pick up, tell the basics and give you a statement while you pick last night's dinner out of your teeth."
"Don't f*** me around, Jones. Once this is over you're gonna tell me why you smell like piss." He turns the recorder back on
"Now describe the appearance of Mr. Terrance Prince for the record." He's older. Tall, probably 6'3" - 6'4". Heavy. No lighter then 250 lbs, but in a stocky way. His arms are defined so he most likely lifts weights. Bald and, maybe the most odd, black. Odd for a legitimate businessman who owns half of Chinatown wouldn't you say?
"Are you racially profiling the witness Mr. Jones?"
"No, no, not at all. Just making an off the record observation." His eyes are piercing, this man is scary from the moment you walk in the room. His men, and everyone else who has dealings with him, they're absolutely terrified of him.
"And how exactly did you react in the face of danger?" I smirked,
"Why naturally, of course." A couple of his thugs dragged me to the door, picked me up and pulled off my shoes. They knocked on the door with reservation, I called them hams and said I wanted them back
"Mr. King?" The short one squeaked out,
"We have a visitor for you," the taller goon said as a commanding voice bellowed from the other side of the door.
"Don't be rude and leave our guest hanging, bring em on in!" They pulled me in on my feet and dropped me to my knees,
"Take his jacket."
"I better get that back you twats, its leather." Their boss let out a chuckle and shook his head.
"Son I hate to break it to you, but you see this wall behind me?" He motioned behind,
"You ain't getting out of here. You know what kind of cop comes into my house, to throw shit on my table, flashes his badge, and expects to walk out? No kind, that's who." Those fleeting remnants of calm were gone and replaced by anger. I think his men were sweating harder than me.
"Look, I didn't come in here to bring any shit on your table. You have enough in this room it looks like Elton John threw up all over. I came to ask about a missing girl and I still plan on it." The intimidating frame of a man regained his composure and let out a laugh, his henchmen awkwardly followed suit.
"Man, you don't know when to quit. I thought white people were supposed to be smart. But I've been young too, so I'll answer one question before my boys bury take care of you." I was shaking. I had one question to ask and I thought I was dead regardless, so I thought hard about it.
"When was the last time you saw Candice Patton dead or alive? You'd know her by Candy."
"Well Goddamn son, you stuck out your own neck to ask about some strung out little bitch you don't know shit about?" It was in that very moment where I learned anger is a stronger emotion than fear.
"Have some respect you glorified pimp; she's got a family no matter how much you pass her around like a cheap bottle of champagne." I heard a gasp from one of the guards and the other choked on his spit. The criminal stood up and lumbered towards me. He was like a tower in comparison.
"One. F***ing. Answer. That's only because I'm a man of my word. The little thing was in here two weeks ago, took care of my boys all day like usual, and f***ing robbed $3000 from one of my dealers who got doped up, and his car."
"That'd make you mad enough to wanna kill her, huh? Maybe give the critics table plus Siskel and Ebert back there another go and put two bullets in her head?" Prince cackled and went back to his self-proclaimed throne.
"Yes, it would. Unfortunately for me I don't know where the slut went. Maybe back to her family that loves her so much, boy?"
"No. They were gutted in the living room at a Satanic Altar made from the family dog. About two weeks ago..." The short lackey made a gagging sound as his employer's eyes widened,
"Well goddamn, I thought you was the craziest f***ing white asshole around. Don't you see? That little tweaker stole my boy's shit, got hopped up on what homeless dudes from Florida are getting into with it, and went to town on dear old Mom and Pops. I solved your case for you officer, but you ain't gonna be able to do your paperwork. Take him out of town and make it look like an accident." They grabbed my arms and started to drag me out again, I was so scared I was ready to... piss myself.
"WAIT!" He raised his hand and they let me go,
"How much did this carpet cost? It looks pricey."
"$250,000. More than your worthless hide. Whats it matter?"
"Ya know, I know a guy who could h-have saved you a fortune. My cousin."
"Huh. Well that's too f***in bad, cause it's too late for both of us then." The men regripped my shoulders,
"But hey! I mean, t-this, uh, would cost a fortune to replace."
"No shit. So?" I did what any sane person would have done it that situation. And pissed my goddamn self. The rug ran yellow as a puddle washed away what a a precinct of officers make in a year. The entire room was speechless as a strong silence and stench of whiskey I drank 7 hours ago fermented the previously sterile space. At that moment, I realized I was in for a fate worse than de-
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA" An eruption of laughter spewed forth from the kingpin like an excitable volcano.
"Motherf***er, I'm not sure how they dragged you in with those balls you got. Let him go." They removed their shaky and sweaty palms from me,
"Put my card in his coat and give it back to him."
"I'll also take my shoes, thank you kindly." After that, I got back in my car and drove straight here.
"Holy shit kid", Badger said.
"Either you're the world's greatest bullshiter and you relieved yourself on the way, or you have brass balls."
"In that regard, the metal detector would have went off on the way here."
[CLICK] - The tape recorder stops.
"Alright goddamn it, I've heard enough out of you." Now I'm in a police questioning room. If this prick doesn't back off.
"What's the matter, Badger? You asked for my account of what happened, I mean, if you'd rather I tell the press-"
"Listen here you condescending little shit. For the last time, its French. Badgere. Secondly, I don't need your second hand remarks you little cretin. The only reason you're on this case is because the captain isn't convinced you'll f*** it up. I know better." The musty smell of cheap cologne closed in as my "superior" bent over towards my side of the table.
"Anyone can make detective, kid. its nothing special. Any regular guy could shoot some black kid waving around a pellet gun. Your mistake was giving him CPR. His f***ing statement from a hospital bed turned you into a glorified meter maid. You're my bitch now, and maybe I didn't want you on this case but the sooner you go in the ground for waving your badge around like its your cock, the sooner I can give someone who deserves it the job. That little line about city officials in his pocket isn't going to f***ing fly either pal."
I grind my teeth at this ham stays in my face. I swear to God, this won't end well for him. So I'll smile,
"Alright, jeez. I'll pick up, tell the basics and give you a statement while you pick last night's dinner out of your teeth."
"Don't f*** me around, Jones. Once this is over you're gonna tell me why you smell like piss." He turns the recorder back on
"Now describe the appearance of Mr. Terrance Prince for the record." He's older. Tall, probably 6'3" - 6'4". Heavy. No lighter then 250 lbs, but in a stocky way. His arms are defined so he most likely lifts weights. Bald and, maybe the most odd, black. Odd for a legitimate businessman who owns half of Chinatown wouldn't you say?
"Are you racially profiling the witness Mr. Jones?"
"No, no, not at all. Just making an off the record observation." His eyes are piercing, this man is scary from the moment you walk in the room. His men, and everyone else who has dealings with him, they're absolutely terrified of him.
"And how exactly did you react in the face of danger?" I smirked,
"Why naturally, of course." A couple of his thugs dragged me to the door, picked me up and pulled off my shoes. They knocked on the door with reservation, I called them hams and said I wanted them back
"Mr. King?" The short one squeaked out,
"We have a visitor for you," the taller goon said as a commanding voice bellowed from the other side of the door.
"Don't be rude and leave our guest hanging, bring em on in!" They pulled me in on my feet and dropped me to my knees,
"Take his jacket."
"I better get that back you twats, its leather." Their boss let out a chuckle and shook his head.
"Son I hate to break it to you, but you see this wall behind me?" He motioned behind,
"You ain't getting out of here. You know what kind of cop comes into my house, to throw shit on my table, flashes his badge, and expects to walk out? No kind, that's who." Those fleeting remnants of calm were gone and replaced by anger. I think his men were sweating harder than me.
"Look, I didn't come in here to bring any shit on your table. You have enough in this room it looks like Elton John threw up all over. I came to ask about a missing girl and I still plan on it." The intimidating frame of a man regained his composure and let out a laugh, his henchmen awkwardly followed suit.
"Man, you don't know when to quit. I thought white people were supposed to be smart. But I've been young too, so I'll answer one question before my boys bury take care of you." I was shaking. I had one question to ask and I thought I was dead regardless, so I thought hard about it.
"When was the last time you saw Candice Patton dead or alive? You'd know her by Candy."
"Well Goddamn son, you stuck out your own neck to ask about some strung out little bitch you don't know shit about?" It was in that very moment where I learned anger is a stronger emotion than fear.
"Have some respect you glorified pimp; she's got a family no matter how much you pass her around like a cheap bottle of champagne." I heard a gasp from one of the guards and the other choked on his spit. The criminal stood up and lumbered towards me. He was like a tower in comparison.
"One. F***ing. Answer. That's only because I'm a man of my word. The little thing was in here two weeks ago, took care of my boys all day like usual, and f***ing robbed $3000 from one of my dealers who got doped up, and his car."
"That'd make you mad enough to wanna kill her, huh? Maybe give the critics table plus Siskel and Ebert back there another go and put two bullets in her head?" Prince cackled and went back to his self-proclaimed throne.
"Yes, it would. Unfortunately for me I don't know where the slut went. Maybe back to her family that loves her so much, boy?"
"No. They were gutted in the living room at a Satanic Altar made from the family dog. About two weeks ago..." The short lackey made a gagging sound as his employer's eyes widened,
"Well goddamn, I thought you was the craziest f***ing white asshole around. Don't you see? That little tweaker stole my boy's shit, got hopped up on what homeless dudes from Florida are getting into with it, and went to town on dear old Mom and Pops. I solved your case for you officer, but you ain't gonna be able to do your paperwork. Take him out of town and make it look like an accident." They grabbed my arms and started to drag me out again, I was so scared I was ready to... piss myself.
"WAIT!" He raised his hand and they let me go,
"How much did this carpet cost? It looks pricey."
"$250,000. More than your worthless hide. Whats it matter?"
"Ya know, I know a guy who could h-have saved you a fortune. My cousin."
"Huh. Well that's too f***in bad, cause it's too late for both of us then." The men regripped my shoulders,
"But hey! I mean, t-this, uh, would cost a fortune to replace."
"No shit. So?" I did what any sane person would have done it that situation. And pissed my goddamn self. The rug ran yellow as a puddle washed away what a a precinct of officers make in a year. The entire room was speechless as a strong silence and stench of whiskey I drank 7 hours ago fermented the previously sterile space. At that moment, I realized I was in for a fate worse than de-
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA" An eruption of laughter spewed forth from the kingpin like an excitable volcano.
"Motherf***er, I'm not sure how they dragged you in with those balls you got. Let him go." They removed their shaky and sweaty palms from me,
"Put my card in his coat and give it back to him."
"I'll also take my shoes, thank you kindly." After that, I got back in my car and drove straight here.
"Holy shit kid", Badger said.
"Either you're the world's greatest bullshiter and you relieved yourself on the way, or you have brass balls."
"In that regard, the metal detector would have went off on the way here."
END
-----------------------------------
to be continued, possibly.
Last edited: