satire

10 ~ Pickle Takes A Stand Against Vaping

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10

The door to the oversized, architectural fiasco mansion opened. A silver haired, six foot two inch man wearing a tux with red cummerbund stretching over a forty-four inch waist said, “I assume you are the detectives?”

“When you go through puberty, your voice is going to change. No offense intended, are you going through a sex change?” asked Pickles.

 “I’m Mr. Sampson’s administrative assistant, Fleming. Please leave your firearms in your beat up truck. Mr. Sampson doesn’t allow firearms or curse words in his home,” said Fleming clearing his throat attempting to bring it down into the soprano range.

Gillis ignored Fleming. He tapped Pickle on the arm, “Ask him if he has more than one name. I think he’s taking steroids. Steroid takers can react violently, I’m giving you a head’s up. Another thing, you take too many steroids they shrink your package, know what I mean, Dill?”

Pickles stared at Fleming, then looked at Gillis, “Hold on, Gills. I’m supposed to be the bad cop. I won the coin toss.”

“I had a mind burp, Dill. Excuse me. I’m the good cop, you’re the bad cop,” said a contrite Gillis.

Pickle nodded and fist bumped Gillis. He said, “He’s not doing steroids. If he was he’d have pimples. One thing I’ll say for Phlegm, he has good skin but the comb over leaves a lot to be desired. Hey, Phlegm, you do Botox? Do you have another name to go with Phlegm?”

Fleming turned a shade of yellow and green, and said, “I have one name, like Madonna. The name is Fleming. Mr. Sampson is very generous and I’m covered for free Botox injections whenever I need them.”

Pickles turned his back to Fleming, closed his eyes and concentrated on his bad cop role. When he was emotionally ready, he screwed up his face, twisted his lips into a snarl, turned back toward Fleming and barked, “Guns or cussing not allowed? Is that so? How about I shove my gun up your tight ass? That is, unless you’re Folsom Sampson, which you already admitted you’re not. If you’re lying, and you are Sampson, I’m going to bust you for exploding an investigation. You want to cop a plea deal and rat out your boss, maybe I’ll put in a good word for you with the B.O.”

Fleming’s color was changing so rapidly, Gillis couldn’t get a good read on it. He took note of Pickle’s use of the word exploding instead of impeding. For a brief moment Gillis felt overwhelmed. He had so much work to do to get Pickle ready for the detective first grade exam and only two years to do it.

Fleming jabbed a finger at Pickle and said, “You. You are an …”

“Don’t say something you’re going to regret, Phlegm. Why were you called Phlegm? That brings up disgusting images in my mind. If anybody named me Phlegm I’d a changed it faster than a whore turns a trick,” said Gillis.

“I’m going to report the both of you to whoever takes reports. You’ve not heard the end of this,” squeaked Fleming.

Pickles said, “I didn’t hear anything bad, did you Gills?”

Gillis still wasn’t sure what Pickle meant by B. O. It couldn’t have been body odor. He decided to let it slide. He said, “Not me.”

“The only thing I heard was Phlegm insulting my mixed racial identity. You hear that, Gills?” asked Pickles.

Gillis slipping into his good cop role, said, “It embarrassed me the way he was talking about your ancestors. What if your four or five fathers showed up? How would they feel? I don’t think Phlegm knew about your four or five fathers. Let’s cut him a bit of slack and hold off on reporting the pervert, Dill. The man’s only doing his job. Besides, you don’t want to get your gun dirty by sticking it up his ass. We’re not carrying pistol condoms.” 

Gillis turned to face Fleming. He said, “We’ll hold on to our guns, Phlegm. If you’re not Folsom Sampson, we don’t care who you are. You might be Liza Filtz for all I know. We’re here to see Dipthong”

“You mean Mr. Sampson?” said Fleming reassuming a snooty attitude.

“Gills, I think I heard you say Ping Pong. Maybe we should arrest this guy for making fun of the way you talk. We’ll shove him the same cell with Benny Melendez, the street mariachi player.  You want some of that, huh, Phlegm? You want to hear mariachi music twenty-four seven. It’s enough to drive someone from here to Saskatchewan. You’ll need a passport if you want to take that trip. If you try to sneak over the border, it’s okay, it’s a problem for the Canadian security. My guess is you don’t have a passport on you. You know what I’m talking about?” said Pickles.

Fleming, who majored in logic at the university, couldn’t follow the conversation. He was trying to wrap his head around an enigma and found it more difficult than solving a Rubric’s Cube. His tongue wouldn’t move. He gestured, it didn’t help. He turned and walked inside the mansion, Gillis and Pickle followed. 

Fleming stopped five feet into the entrance way. He was back on familiar turf. He took a deep breath and turned to face Gillis and Pickle, “I’ll ask you to remove those, those, rubber soled, lower blue collar, black work shoes.”

Fleming, unwittingly played into the bad cop character that Pickle won honorable mention with at the Police Christmas party. Pickle stopped. He untied his right shoe. He glanced at the smirking Fleming who held blue disposable booties for both Pickle and Gillis. Later, Pickle would tell Gillis it was the smirk that brought out the award nominating performance for his bad cop routine.

Pickles scaled his shoe at Fleming’s head. Fleming easily stepped aside and watched the black, steel toed, blue collar worker shoe sail past him and smash into Van Gogh’s Starry Night on loan to Folsom Sampson for safe keeping while the Museum of Modern Art updated its security systems. Pickle’s black shoe put a three inch tear into the canvas and a distinct black smudge making the starry night darker. 

Pickles walked over to the painting, gave it ten seconds of his attention, picked up his shoe and asked, “This one of the paint by numbers paintings? Whose Vin Goff?”

Gillis thought Pickles was overplaying the bad cop role.

Fleming, who fainted, opened his eyes staring up into the ceiling and not a starry night, gurgled, “It’s Van Gogh, not Vin Goff, dolt. Do you know what you did?”

“I can answer that question with a question,” said Pickle. “Where can we find Sampson?”

Fleming wiped the tears out of his eyes, and pointed, “He’s…He’s in his office over there.”

Gillis and Pickle stepped over the prone Fleming and walked to Sampson’s office. They didn’t bother knocking. Gillis twisted the nob and flung the door open letting the door nob whack the wall leaving a small indentation. The two detectives walked into Sampson’s office. Sampson sat on an executive chair behind a large polished cherry desk. A golden, life sized sculpture of the deceased sat on the floor on next to the desk. A smaller golden replica sat on the corner of Sampson’s desk. Four commissioned paintings of the deceased hung on walls. 

“What was that racquet in the hall? Where is Fleming? Why didn’t you knock? I hope you didn’t damage the wall. All my walls were painted by the obscure but rising Latino artist Don Won. Do you know who I am?” said Sampson.

Gillis flashed his shield and Pickle chucked Sampson the bird. Gillis said, “I’m Gillis, the good cop. This here is my partner, Pickle, the bad cop. We’re here to talk to you about the murder of a monkey. We don’t want any monkey business from you neither.” 

“Do you know you used a double negative?” said the Ivy educated Sampson.

“Let’s get something straight, I’m an optimist. I don’t allow no negative thinking into my mind, so quit the crap about double negatives,” said Gillis.

“Nice one, Gills,” said Pickle.

Sampson gave a disgusted look, opened a drawer and said, “Mind if I vape?”

Pickle was standing in front of the desk, said, “You vape and I will twist the two mushrooms that kinda look like ears on the sides of your head until they fall off your head. I’m okay with this, if you agree.”

Sampson closed the desk drawer. Then he glared at Pickle now sitting on the edge of his desk holding a one of a kind commissioned blown glass work by Lo Ming of the deceased monkey. “What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.

Pickle looked at Gillis and tossed him the blown glass monkey. Sampson gasped, “No. No. It’s a rare commissioned piece. It’s one of kind. It’s a replica of my beloved Till.”

Gillis didn’t track the blown glass. He was preoccupied clipping his nails. Till floated happily toward Gillis. On Till’s descent, he performed a half twist, and made a perfect head first dive onto the Italian marble floor shattering into a thousand pieces.”

“Ye gads. That was priceless. “Where is justice?” bellowed Sampson

Before Sampson could say another word, Gillis smiled, playing good cop, and said, “Sam Justice is working vice. He’s on the night shift. Being priceless is a good thing. It means whatever this thing is supposed to be, it’s not worth anything. If you go eBay, you probably can find an upgrade for about five fifty.”

  Sampson began crying. He laid his head down on his desk and beat the desk with both fists sobbing loudly.

“When you’re finished with your tantrum, we’ll get on with our interview,” said Gillis.

“Yah. We can do it the hard way or we can do it the Pickle way, which makes the hard way look like the easy way. The third way is to write out your confession and tell us how you had your cook prepare the monkey’s guts.”

© Ray Calabrese 2018

Gillis Takes Target Practice in a Goldfish Pond

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Don’t miss the next installment on Monday of our bumbling detectives, Gillis and Pickle, as Gillis Accidently Takes Out a Rare Goldfish

Gillis & Pickle Enter the Casa del Mono

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Don’t miss the next installment on Monday of our bumbling detectives, Gillis and Pickle, as they enter the Casa del Mono.

8 ~ Gillis Teaches Senior Citizens About Road Rage

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8

Five minutes later Gillis and Pickle were traveling down El Paso Ave in Gillis’s red pickup truck. Gillis always enjoyed being fashionably late. His personal motto was if you start showing up on time, people will expect you to show up on time. He kept a list of personal mottos in a file on his smart phone to keep him grounded. Following his motto of not showing up on time, Gillis Gillis took a left and turned into an adult only community. He pulled up to the guard house and flashed his badge. The guard waved them through.

“Why we going through the adult only community, Gills. You think the killer is one of these old timers? It’s a good theory. Maybe the monkey crapped on their lawn and Sampson didn’t pick it up. It’d be enough to drive them over the edge,” said Pickle.

“Good theory, Dill. There’s one problem with it.”

“What’s that, Gills? I can’t see any holes in my theory,” said Dill. 

“By the time, they get up from their perch on the window, grab hold of their walker, find their gun, and make it to the door, they forgot what they were angry about until they step in the crap,” said Gillis.

“You’re the man. You see things other detectives will never see, Gills. Thanks for being my mentor,” said an appreciative Pickle.

Gillis slowed the red pickup to the posted speed limit of 15 miles an hour. He lowered the windows, and turned on the radio to a country western station maximizing the volume.

Pickles hollered over a country western singer complaining about his girl leaving him and his wide trailer for a rodeo star, “Why are you blasting music, Gills?”

“Number one, Dills, it’s common knowledge anyone over 55 is deaf. So the only way they can hear music is if you turn the volume up to maximum. Number two, when you live in one of these adult communities, you don’t got anything to do except look out the window for people violating their HOA rules or see who the ambulance carts out. Most of them will turn us in the HOA. Not a problem, they’ll think we’re an ice cream truck. It will give them something to talk about when they eat dinner at 3:30,” said Gillis.

“Three-thirty is kind of early for dinner, isn’t it, Gills?” asked Pickle.

“Not if you’re a senior. They go for the early bird special. What’s today? Tuesday. It’s half price for the ladies. Since most seniors are women because there husbands die off early, the few men capable of sex will have their pick. It’s a known fact, the biggest black market drug in the senior communities is viagra for men and estrogen replacement for women.”

“How do you know all this stuff, Gills? I think you’re the smartest man alive,” said Pickle.

“That may be true about me being the smartest man alive. I don’t like to brag about it. But I will for a quick moment. At an early age my first teachers said things like, “You think you’re smart.” Or, “Don’t be a smart aleck.” Or, “There he goes again, Mr. Smarty pants.”

Gillis stopped bragging about his intelligence when his mind registered three senior men riding in a golf cart ahead of him and traveling at six miles an hour. He began riding the golf cart bumper. The old guy on the rear seat in golf cart picked up a two iron and waved it at Gillis. Gillis respond by pulling out his gun, putting it in his left hand and sticking it menacingly out the window toward the old man. Gillis laid on his horn with his right hand and bumped the rear end of the golf cart causing it to career off the road onto Gillian Bridges lawn. Gillis stopped to make sure the golf cart wasn’t damaged. The driver, the man next to the driver, and the guy in the back seat got out of the golf cart, got out, pulled drivers out of their golf bags and took a step toward Gillis and Pickle. Gillis fired a warning shot over their heads not thinking about where the bullet might eventually land. One guy grabbed his heart and collapsed to the ground. Another tried to remember if he took his cell phone and if did what pocket he put it in. The third man looked at his watch and said, “If we don’t hurry, we’ll miss our tee time.”

Gillis waved at the two standing men and Pickle tossed them a salute as they pulled away from the edge of the road.

“Why’d you fire your gun, Gills?” asked Pickle.

“I like the high quality of your questions, Dill. It shows me you got a lot of potential. And, I mean Potential spelled with a capital P. To answer your question, these seniors probably never had experience with road rage. Normally, being taught about road rage is going to cost you around a hundred bucks. I just gave them a free lesson. More Importantly, I gave them something to talk about.”

“That’s what I like about you, Gills. You always thinking of the other person. Maybe I’ll write this up and give it to Cap. He’ll get you a citation and an award for community service.”

Gillis shook his head, “Thanks, but no thanks, Dill. If I get the award it will cause too much envy from the rest of the department. I prefer to keep my community service low key. On a whole high note, Wendy wants me to think she’s playing hard to get. I like that in my women.”

“What are you going to do, Gills? She’s laying the marriage trap for you. You need your freedom, man,” replied Pickle. 

Gillis and Pickles fist bumped. They cleared the senior settlement. Gillis turned off the radio. 

Pickles said, “Got any ideas where we start looking for the killer, Gills?”

“The only place we can start, Dill. We start with the last person to see the deceased alive.”

“Who’s that Gills?”

“I figure it’s the monkey’s owner. We was on his property when we examined the crime scene. If he’s messing with the crime scene, he’s messing with me. If he’s messing with me, he’s messing with the wrong dude. Captain Courageous told Sampson we’d be by to interview him a 10 a.m. That’s where we’re headed.

Pickle looked at his smart phone, “It’s 11:15, Gills. We’re over an hour late.”

“There’s where you are wrong, Dill. We’re right on time. I want him to squirm. I want him to fidget. I want him to know we’re on to him and we’re going to stick his head up his rectum and roll him like a ball.”

“You figure he’s the killer? How so?” asked Pickle. 

“It’s his name that tipped the scales, Dill. Folsom Sampson the Third. I call him Folsom Sampson the turd. We might wrap this case up in the half hour. Think about it. Can you imagine a better suspect than someone who owned the monkey and who reported the murder? Don’t answer. I already know what you are going to say. Here’s another thing. I listened to the recording of the 911 call and the monkey’s name is Till. This is a name nobody wants. I think the monkey went to court and was trying to get his name changed. Sampson found out about it and demanded the monkey stop. Till refused, and Sampson killed him. I got the motive down. Now all I got to figure out if Sampson owns a cleaving knife and when he had the opportunity to do the deed.”

“Everything you say makes perfect sense, Gills. I’ll pile on to your theory. I don’t trust no one with two last names. You remember Crater Doolittle, the serial killer? How about, Jones Smith, head of the symphony mafia? You ever hear of a person named Folsom being an upright, honest, God fearing man?”

“You made your point, Dills,” said Gillis beginning to get drowsy listening to Pickle. He didn’t want to nod off, especially while he was driving. He still had sixteen months of payments left on his truck. 

Pickle looks out the window, deep in thought. After a long three seconds, he turned back to Gillis, “I gave it a lot of thought, Gills. You’re bulls eye perfect about Folsom Sampson. When we interview the son of bitch, you want to be the good cop or the bad cop?”

“Let’s flip for it when we get there, Dill.”

Gillis pulled his Ford pickup up to the curb, next to fire hydrant, across from the Sonrisa guarded, gated community. 

“You know you pulled up into a no parking zone, right Gills?” asked Pickle.

Gillis twisted a bit in his seat and faced Pickle, “I’ve been on the force ten years longer than you, Dill. I’m going to let you in on a secret that only a few senior detectives know. If you’re a cop, you can park anywhere you want. You can park your car on the sidewalk. You can double park it. You can triple park it. You can park in on top of a slow walking pedestrian who is using a walker. I got a pet peeve about walkers. I seen senior citizens use them as weapons. I think they should be banned.”

“I promise I won’t tell anyone the secret, Gills. I can’t wait to park my car on the sidewalk in front of my apartment. It’ll be safer that way.”

Gillis and Pickle, The Bumbling Detectives, Return on Monday 

© Ray Calabrese 2018

6 ~ Pickle Believes Gillis Understands Women Better Than Women Do

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6

Courageous twisted his head slightly toward the window. He was reconsidering his decision not to throw himself in a full body slam at the window. If he was sure he’d break the glass and soar into space, he’d do it. Hell couldn’t be worse than what he was experiencing with Gillis and Pickle. Sigmund Freud couldn’t figure these two out if he had three lifetimes, thought Courageous. Then he remembered his good friend, Pete Thissel, who headed the Unsolved Crimes Unit. Six months ago, Pete Thissel, tried leaping through the window from the 45th floor after working with Gillis and Pickle for two weeks. Pete ended up with a fractured skull. He was never the same after that, he’s in an assistant care facility. Gillis and Pickle got a citation for solving the case.

Courageous closed his eyes visualizing how much longer until retirement. Eighteen months, that’s all I have to make before I can retire on a full pension. That’s less than two years. I can do it. I can do it, he repeated to himself. A brief moment later, he opened his eyes and smiled like someone who’d taken one two many anxiety pills. It was a smile of someone who was thinking of dinner at Flipetti’s Trattoria instead of the two lunatics in front of him. He’d have to eat alone, his wife called and said she’d be late, she had a late meeting with the mayor this afternoon she couldn’t break. 

Courageous took a deep breath and said “Listen up Gillis and Pickle, the press is going to be all over this case once they hear about it. I’m keeping a lid on it. No leaks. Keep it quiet. I want it solved by the end of the week.”

“Too late for that, Cap,” said Gillis.

“What!” screamed Courageous, his calm demeanor left him faster than a rocket leaving Cape Kennedy for outer space.

Gillis said, “Thought you’d be happy. I took the liberty of calling Elaine Hazel at the Daily News. I owed her one for the great sex we had after I leaked the story about the unsolved case that is no longer unsolved. Don’t tell anyone, I not one to kiss and tell if you know what I mean.

Courageous’s heart momentarily flatlined, then went into Afib before backing off into A flutter turning his face redder than a ripe tomato and his balding head into a Vegas neon sign.

Pickle, ever helpful, offered Courageous his take, “I saw an ad on cable for high blood pressure, Cap. It’s from one of the endangered species that will be extinct in six months. That’s why the company is hunting all of them before hunting them is banned. Question for you, Cap. Is it banned or band? The two words can be easily confused. The ad said you can get your first order free if you subscribe to receive a supplementary order every week for two years. If you order now, they’ll send a bonus gift card good for …” 

“Please leave before I throw the two of you at the window.”

“Caio,” said Gillis as he stood and turned toward the door.

Pickle followed Gillis and said, “I think you meant, chow, the two words are easy mistaken and misused.

Gillis and Pickle left Courageous’s office and entered the elevator. Pickle pushed the B button and the elevator began its slow descent toward the basement. He stepped back, “You’d think they’d put the morgue up here with the Cap since he’s in charge of the hormone unit.”

“You mean homicide unit, right?” asked Gillis, then realized his error. He quickly added, “Don’t say it, the two words are easily confused.”

“You are the best, Gills. You can read my mind before the thought hits my lips. How do you do that?” asked Pickle.

“Just a gift I was born with, Dill. You ought to put your idea about moving the morgue in the suggestion box. You might win the weekly prize.” 

“Thanks for encouraging me, Gills. I’ve always been creative. I remember when I was in fourth grade, I turned my math test upside down and did the test.”

Gillis turned his toward Pickle, “How’d that work out for you?”

“See, that’s the problem with schools, Gills. They penalize creative kids. They reward the ass kissers who play by the rules. That’s why we’re such a good team. Following the law and the rules are for the other cops. We make it up as we go along.”

“Good point, Dill,” Gills said. Then he added, “Cap’s pretty emotional about this case. I got a feeling he and the deceased were close friends.”

“I noticed that. You see the vein in his right temple doing the Paso Doble? I thought Cap was going to have an anus and it was going to pop any second.”

Gillis wasn’t quite sure where to begin. He couldn’t let it pass. He said, “You mean aneurysm, right? Only helping out in case you ever have to interview a dietician, Dill,” said Gillis.

The elevator sped past the second floor on its descent. Pickles said, “Two easily confused words, Gills. They had this PBS special on television about confusing words. I watched it while Karen and I were having sex.”

“You watched a TV show about confusing words while you were having sex?” Gillis said as the elevator came to a stop at the basement level.

“I call it word porn. It’s a turn on for me.”

“What about Karen?”

“She left me in the morning. I can’t figure out why. I’m sure she liked it, she didn’t say a word during or after sex. I always take that as a good sign.”

“Women are hard to figure, Dill. Speaking of such, back me up with Wendy. No question she’s got the hots for me. I’ve been playing hard to get and it’s driving her nuts. I’m going to torment her until her libido explodes and she can’t control her sexual aggression for me.”

“You understand the female species better than women understand their own species. That’s where you have the edge, Gills. I wish I had your gift for the ladies. Me? Right now I’m on the new dating site, desperate dot com.” 

Gillis and Pickle walked down the dimly lit bowels of police headquarters. Steam pipes, covered with dust and cobwebs lined the ceiling, the light barely strong enough to keep them from tripping on a rat scurrying across the floor.

“This place gives me the creeps. You think the city would send an inspector and shut it down. No self respecting corpse wants to be found dead here, said Gillis.

“Rumor has it the Chief has pull with the mayor’s office. He’s pulling strings to keep the food inspectors away,” said Pickle. 

Gillis wasn’t sure where to take the food inspector comment. He let it slide and pointed ahead, “There’s the morgue. Wendy was experiencing PMS earlier. It proved one thing to me.”

“What’s that, Gills?” asked Pickle.

“Wendy’s still capable of having my babies. Maybe I need to talk to her about her biological clock.”

“You is always one step ahead of the ladies, Gills. My aunt Louise would say you got chick dust sprinkled on you when you was born. The ladies cannot resist you.”

“I thought that was dandruff,” laughed Gills. “Heads up, Dill. Like Cap always says, we got to show our sensitive side.”

Dill fist bumped Gills and said, “Like my Grams always said, ‘You catch more frogs with bacon.’”

“Got to remember that one. Okay if I use it now and then?” said Gillis.

 

© Ray Calabrese 2018

5 – Pickle Utters a Double Entendre

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5

Courageous was fighting hand to hand combat with his demons who were encouraging him to heave himself through the window and plunge to his death at an accelerating speed of 9.8 meters per second, per second. Life isn’t fair, his demons argued, Gillis and Pickle are decorated veterans of the homicide department. Yet, they are the two most incompetent, bumbling detectives on planet Earth. Why is it, everything always turns out right for them? And, all I get is angina pain, a hiatus hernia, and hemorrhoids. 

 “You’re deep in thought, Cap. Thinking about how to turn the Mrs on? I hear sardines are an aphrodisiac. What you do is to place a sardine between your lips and feed it to your wife,” said Gillis.

Courageous tripped over his feet in an attempt to stick a complicated pirouette and fell backward into his chair. He swirled it around. “My sex life is none of your business. Just solve the damn murder.”

“Don’t take it personal, Cap. Me and Pickles are here to help. I’m no Dr. Phil, but I have my way with the ladies. The way I see it, you may be suffering from erectile dysfunction. It’s nothing to be ashamed about. Lots of overweight men in high stress jobs, suffer a similar fate. Fortunately, there’s help…”

“I don’t need help. I don’t want help. I only want you two to leave,” Courageous pleaded. 

Pickles chimed in, “Listen up, Cap. Gills is right on at ED. You want to be ready when the moment arrives. Know what I mean? Me and Gills are going to relieve your stress. We’re over this killing like sprinkles on ice cream, like barbecue sauce on your breakfast cereal. We’re on it like genital warts on a porn star. We’ll get the killer before the killer gets the next Monkey,” said Pickle.

Courageous mumbled a string of curse words seldom heard anyplace but in the depths of hell. The muscles in his forearms bulged pushing as hard as he could against his temples in a desperate attempt to crush his brain.

Gillis said, “Didn’t quite catch that, Cap. Did you say the killer is a son of a bitch? No need to use that language. There’s no evidence the killer was a son of a bitch. I personally checked the lead out. I’m sure the killer was not a dog and I’ll tell you why. See, a dog wouldn’t be able to neatly cut off a head and place it by the Monkey’s feet. Moreover, I never heard of the dog community and the monkey community being at odds with each other. Now, I’ve heard of friction between the dog and feline community. What they got going on makes the Israeli and Palestinian stuff look like kids play, know what I mean? What do you think, Dill?”

Pickle responded, “All in all Monkeys are a good natured lot. Every once in a while you get a bad monkey. Lot’s of folks might tell you to slap the …”

Gillis interrupted, “Don’t go there, Dill. What you’re getting into is a double, maybe triple or quadruple entendre.  Now, pit bulls, that’s a whole different matter. This makes me think the killer was a pit bull owner.”

“I, I, didn’t say the killer was a son of bitch. I, I think you misunderstood me,” said Courageous pushing his left index finger against the pulsating vein in his left temple.

Gillis said, “Your cussing, Cap. See, you said son of a bitch. Now, when I say it, it’s not cussing because I’m helping you out. And, the way I say son of a bitch is that I am talking about a male dog who is the offspring of a female dog. Now, if the male dog is not the offspring of a female dog, this presents a whole new line of investigation where we have to bring in forensics, dermatologists, and the Mayo Clinic. If you want to cuss or curse or swear, it’s okay by me. I know some choice words you might want to use. I’ll give you a couple of hints, one starts with mother, two more are four letter words so they’ll be easy to remember.”

Gillis stopped talking when Courageous got up from his seat, and pulled his chair back with such force it ricochet off the bullet proof window and rolled back to the desk. Courageous steadied himself with his two hands placed firmly on the desk, leaned forward bit. He would have leaned forward a bit more but his belly was resting on the desk top.

“Excuse me, Cap,” said Pickle. “I’m only thinking of you. One of my ex girlfriends works for a trusted weight loss program that lets you eat all you want to eat, whenever you want to eat, for as long as you want eat, and you’re guaranteed to lose weight. The program is covered by most medical insurances. You’ll need to check with your plan’s provider to make sure you’re covered. If you don’t mind me saying so, you got a spar tire that probably gets in the way when you’re trying to do the dance with Mrs. Courageous. That is, if she isn’t frigid.” 

Courageous’s left eye started twitching. He lifted his right hand and placed a forefinger on on his eyebrow and thumb below his eye in a futile attempt to stop the twitch. 

“Botox will take care of the twitch, Cap,” said Gillis. “It’s okay to have an eye twitch. Some women find it very attractive like Clara your secretary, if you know what I mean.”

“Not another word. Not another word,” shouted Courageous.

Gillis stared at Courageous’ left earlobe, a trick he learned in communication class in community college. Pickle steepled his fingers and placed both thumbs on his lips against his teeth. He used the tops of his fingers as a gunsight trained along the part in Courageous’ white hair.

A long two minutes later, Courageous plopped into his chair and drew himself as close to his desk as his belly allowed. He said “I now remember why I created the Bizarre Crimes Unit and assigned this case to you two. Listen up. The dead monkey was a beloved friend of Folsom Sampson. Folsom Sampson has the mayor’s ear.”

“And, something else I might add,” said Gillis winking at Courageous.

Courageous placed two angina pills under his tongue. He closed his eyes and appeared to mumbling an incantation or prayer, we’ll never know. He opened his eyes, and said, “The mayor said solve the crime, solve it fast or he’ll recommend departmental cuts. Now, leave and don’t come back until you have something to report.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” said Gillis. 

“Excuse Gills, Cap. He should have said, void of conference. The expressions are almost interchangeable.”

Gillis ignored Dill. He smiled at Courageous, and said, “We’re on this, Cap like peanut on butter, like grill on cheese, like dog urine on a fire hydrant. As soon as Wendy finishes with the corpse and she and I spend the night together, Dill and me will get right on it. You know if she is still living with her husband? With your permission, if she isn’t, I’d like to hit on her. I don’t want to commit adulatory unless you authorize it.”

Courageous attempted to process the rapid flow of information coupled with a racing heart rate, and bile rushing up his esophagus at the speed of light, said, “You know what sexual harassment is Gillis?”

“Don’t worry, Cap. She can harass me all she wants. I won’t make an issue of it,” said Gillis.

“Gills is right, Cap. I’ll close my eyes too. If I don’t see it, I can’t report it. We got your back. You got nothing to worry about,” said Pickle.

 

© Ray Calabrese 2018

The Bumbling Detectives, Gillis & Pickle Return Tomorrow

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Tomorrow’s Fun Read on the Bumbling Detectives – Pickle suggests Ferris Bueller is a suspect in the killing.

The Bumbling Detectives: Gillis & Pickle Return Monday

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Monday’s Fun Read on the Bumbling Detectives –

Captain Courageous asks Gillis and Pickle if they know how to stop the city from becoming a giant landfill of crime and corruption. Gillis has the answer.

2 ~ Pickle’s Concerned About the Killer’s Protocol

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2

Pickle tossed a shrug of his shoulders, “Nothing offends me. It’s my way of driving people who don’t like me nuts.”

Every once in a blue moon, make three blue moons, Pickle talked like a Zen master. Gillis couldn’t figure it out. Gillis said, “Where’d you get that bit wisdom? I’d like to practice it.”

Pickle was still taking iPhoto’s of the dead and decaying monkey. He said, “I got it from my mom’s fifth or eighth boyfriend. I couldn’t keep track she had so many. No guy lasted more than eight months with her. I learned to see it coming before the boyfriend did. This one boyfriend, Alvin, he was always high on pot or peyote. I think Mom liked him because I could always hear her saying, yes, yes, and more frequently at night. Mom, generally was very agreeable. 

One day, Alvin was rolling a joint and I was in the room watching him. Mom came into the living room and called him a dirtbag and told him to get out of the house and to take his dope with him. I’m not sure where she got the attitude, but that was mom. Living with her was like riding a rollercoaster. Alvin smiled at her. She tossed a major insult at him when she told him his wiener was smaller than her thumb. He kept smiling. She cussed out his mother. She cussed out his grandmother. Mom was a professional when it came to cussing. Man, she was good. Alvin kept on smiling.”

“Nothing made him mad?” asked Gillis.

“I don’t know if nothing made him made. I know what scared the hell out of him and he ran out of the house with only his boxers on.”

“What happened?” asked Gillis.

Mom left the living room. She hollered from the kitchen. “Alvin, I apologize. The way you zoned out is a major turn on. I am so damn hot, I can’t stand myself. you are the best. Take off your pants and let’s get it on.”

“You heard all this? Did it bother you?”

“Why would it bother me, Gills? Mom was being mom. She never hit me. She was always nice to me. The rest of the stuff that surrounded me I like to think of as my education. That’s what I love about mom. She treated me like an adult. Alvin practically ripped off his shirt and pants and shoes and socks. He’s standing up with only his polkadot boxers on looking like he had three legs. He hollered out, “I’m ready for you, kitten.’ Kitten was his nickname for her. Mom hated cats and the poor fool couldn’t figure it out. Next thing, Mom comes into the living room with a carving knife in one hand and a butcher knife it the other and she said, ‘I am going to castrate you.’ That was the last I ever saw of Alvin.”

“Your mom was very persuasive,” said Gillis.

“True. I’m not sure Alvin taught me anything. But I learned to float about the craziness that filled my life. It’s why in critical situations I’m as calm and as lobster in a boiling pot of water. Ask me whatever you want to ask me, Gills. First, I’m making you the odds on favorite to go to bed with Wendy tonight even if she is still married, which I don’t know. I hear rumors.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” said Gillis scratching his groin and thinking maybe a mosquito got him while he showered with the window open. 

Pickle stared at Gillis, bent toward him squinting his eyes. He straightened up and said, “Your piece is off center. It resembles road kill. You ever see a squirrel been run over by twenty zillion cars? That’s what it looks like laying that way on your head. Not a good look.”

“Thanks for the honesty, Dill.” Gillis adjusted his hair piece with a can of soda in one hand and Philly Cheesesteak sub in the other. “How’s it look now?”

“Not bad, but you dribbled mustard on it from your sub. Not to worry. The mustard put a natural blonde streak in your brown hair. It’s a good look. Now you got movie star looks. Don’t be surprised you get a screen test sometime.”

“Thanks, Dill. When I get to a mirror I’ll make a decision to see if I want to have the streak made permanent. Here’s my question. I can’t tell if you are classified as white, black, brown, Asian, or another category I missed. Not that it makes any difference to me. I’m curious, is all. What do you put down for race when you have to fill out a form? I’ve always wanted to ask you this question but couldn’t find the right time. The timing now is perfect.”

Dill was sticking a forefinger in one of the monkey’s empty eye sockets. He placed his middle finger in the other eye socket. He stuck his thumb in the monkey’s mouth. Dill stood up with the deceased’s head dangling from his right hand like it was a bowling ball. Dill said, “I ask if I can write in ‘all the above.’ It’s only fair. Mom told me during the time of her ovulation when I was conceived she had sex with four different guys. She said there was a white guy, a black guy, a Mexican, and a guy from Singapore. Then she said, there may have been a fifth or sixth, she couldn’t remember she was so wasted.”

“I got it. Thanks for sharing, Dill,” said Gills thinking this was too much information. It made him admire Pickle more than he did before, because Pickle always spoke well of his mother. Pickle had a gift of going with the flow wherever the flow was going.

Pickle was swinging the monkey’s head back and forth in a wider and wider arc. He said, “I ever tell you my Mom got an award …”

Gillis interrupted Dill. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear about the award. He said, “Must have been for Mother of the Year.” He quickly segued into a new thought, “Be careful with the head, the ME hasn’t examined it yet. Nice of Captain Courageous to set up a special unit and put us in charge. This case fits perfect into the Bizarre Crimes Unit.”

“I think you misheard the Cap, Gils. I think he said, the Brassiere Crimes Unit. No offense intended, but have your hearing checked. Can you give me a hand with the deceased’s head? It’s stuck. I was trying it on to see if I should buy a bowling ball this size. It’s a perfect fit.” 

A couple of tugs and the monkey’s head popped free from Dill’s hand. Gillis had the monkey’s head in his two hands and stumbled backward, flipping the monkey’s head into the air as he fell onto his butt. The head pitched high in the air, did a few forward rolls, landed and rolled over dog poop left by one of the police dogs from the team that first responded. The monkey’s head came to rest next to Gillis empty can of Dr. Pepper, which laid between the monkey’s legs.

Dill stared at the monkey, walked around it clockwise, then walked counter clockwise back to his original starting point. He put his hand on his chin, pursed his lips and closed his eyes. A long second later he opened his eyes and said, “There’s no excuse for gutting a deceased and not cleaning up when you’re through. Look at the blood splatter. The killer broke all killing and gutting protocols. There’s no excuse for that. It won’t go well in prison. The majority of convicted murderers are sticklers for following killing and gutting protocols.”

Gillis said, “Killing and gutting protocol? Where’d you hear that? I think it was a crime of passion,” said Gillis knowing Pickle often said what popped in his mind without considering if it made sense or not.

“I thinks you’re mistaken. It’s a common mistake,” Dill.

“How so?” asked Gillis wondering why he wanted further clarification from Pickle.

“The correct word is compassion. It was a crime of compassion. Whereas and heretofore, and the aforesaid word passion means like you’re helping somebody out of a jam. Don’t get me wrong, I like jam, but I prefer jelly,” said Dill.

Gillis stared at his partner and considered Dill might be living in an imaginary world, sniffing a little of stuff in the evidence room, or maybe he needed immediate referral for professional help. He wasn’t quite sure. He never said anything because Dill had the build of a heavyweight boxer, a kind heart, and he didn’t mind picking up tab whenever they went out to eat. 

1 – They May Be The World’s Worst Detectives

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1

Gillis walked around the corpse, stared at the moonless sky and turned to his partner of five years, “Never seen anything like it, Dill. How many years I been doing this? Ten, fifteen, twenty? I lost count after eight. How about you?”

Oscar “Dill” Pickle, took a sip of Quick Trip coffee, “I don’t understand your question, Gills. You asking me how many years you been doing this? Or, are you asking me if I ever seen anything like this? As for the answer to the first question, can I phone a friend? As for the answer to the second question, I been doing it since I started doing it. I tell you one thing or maybe four things, Gill, it’s enough to to turn your stomach turn. It’s a rough one. We’ll never locate any next of kindles.”

“No need to phone a friend because I think I’m the only friend you have, Dill. Anyway, I think the word you meant to use is kin, not kindles,” said Gillis flicking through Instagram photos on his iPhone app.

“I think you’re mistaken, Gills. Like, if you says to me, ‘Dill, kin you get me a coffee.’ I answer, ‘I kin do that.’ See what I’m saying?” 

Gillis  scratched his balls with his left hand. He said, “I think I got jock itch or crabs. I’m not sure what it is. You know if you can get crabs from eating seafood? I eat lots of shrimp. Be that as it may, kin, kindles, kinetics, it’s all the same, Dill.” 

“You got that right, Gills. FYI, the crabs you got don’t come from crabs. If crabs came from crabs all the crabs would have crabs, see what I’m saying?” said Pickle.

“I’m trying to wrap my head around it, you got a way of getting very deep, Dill. As a matter of fact, I don’t like crabs,” said Gillis still scratching.  “You know what’s good for crabs?”

Pickle shook his head yes, “Tabasco sauce goes good with them. You can also flavor them with lemon or Sriracha. If you’e been eating crabs without the seasonings, I can see why you don’t like them.”

Gillis struggled to come up with an answer. Dill had a heart of gold and a brain traveling at the speed of light on a different wave length. He finally responded, “Great advice, Dill. I’ll mention it to my gynecologist at my annual physical.”

“That’s why you’re so healthy, Gills. I got to follow your example. I need a good gynecologist,” said Pickle.

Gillis carried his Philly Cheesesteak sub and walked around the deceased, “I got a question I don’t understand. Why us? Why did Captain Courageous give this case to you and me? It doesn’t make sense. If they ranked all the detectives in the department, I got to put you and me at the top of the list. There’s something funny going on, Dill. It doesn’t smell right to me.”

“First of all, Gills, it doesn’t smell right because I think the deceased has been deceased for a few hours before he was found. That’s where the funny smell comes from. Take a look at the bright side. Who else is Courageous got that has the chops to solve this case? Here we are at Folsom Sampson’s mansion investigating a murder his administrative assistant reported. Rumor has it, Sampson and the mayor’s wife may be more than social friends if you know what I mean.”

“That’s true, Dill. At the same time, rumor has it that Mayor Gibson is doing more than socializing with Courageous’s wife. None of that has nothing to do with this case. Did I just use a double negative in the same sentence?”

Pickle scratched is butt, “If you are trying to be grammatically correct, you were spot on. They changed the grammar rules so a double negative is now correct.”

“When did that happen?”

“I think it happened while we were playing eight ball at Rovers last week,” said Pickle. “Question. Can you catch crabs by hearing someone talk about them?”

“I don’t think so. I haven’t heard of anyone catching them by listening to it. I heard you can catch crabs by sitting on a toilet seat,” said Gillis scratching his groin. He stooped over the decease. Then looked up at Pickle. “I’m going to cut to the chase. This is a friggin monkey.”

“Calm down, Gills. Courageous said the mayor wants results and he wants results fast. His wife is demanding results. That’s why the thing between the mayor’s wife and Sampson is important.”

“I suppose, Dill. Say we catch the killer or killers, what are they going to get? I don’t think it’s a crime to kill a monkey, I don’t care how large it is.”

Pickle continued to scratch his butt, “I sat on a toilet at the burger place. You think the seat had crabs? I think I got them. I can feel them crawling all around. You don’t think they’ll go up my colon, do you?”

”I hope not. Maybe Wendy will know. She’s the ME on duty. I won’t let her know I’m talking about us because she has the hots for me. If she thought I had crabs, it might be a turnoff.”

“On the other hand, Gills, it could be a turn on if she’s into seafood. I know some buffets where you can eat all the Alaskan crab you want,” said Pickle.

Gillis stared off into space wondering where Pickle took a wrong turn. He shook the cobwebs out of his head, glanced at the monkey and said,  “We got a decapitation. The perp or perps, as the case may be, left the monkey-head next to the body. The deceased’s eyes got gouged out. All his teeth been yanked out. All you can hope is that the deceased was deceased before he was deceased.”

“You ever thought of writing, Gills? You got a ways with words. I hopes the deceased was deader than dead because if he wasn’t there’s no way he wasn’t going to feel what was happening, especially when he got his head cut off,” said Dill swirling Dr Pepper in his mouth like mouthwash. 

“Good thing you put yellow crime scene tape up to keep the reporters from trampling all over the crime scene. Why’d you think the eyeballs were gouged out? Would a normal person gouge out monkey eyeballs? Why are you taking photos with your iPhone? The lab team will take all the crime photos we need.” asked Gillis.

“Dill stooped down next to the decapitated monkey head, looked up at Gillis, and said, “My girlfriend, Chiquita, gets turned on by crime scene photos.”

“I thought you were going with Elaine?” said Gillis.

“Chiquita changed her name legally from Elaine to Chiquita to help her career. She’s into movies. About the eyeballs. It’s normal to gouge out monkey eyeballs. Say the killer had cataracts. I hear monkey don’t get cataracts. That means you can replace your eyes with monkey eyes and never worry about getting cataracts. If this is the case, I think it’s normal. What’s not normal is if the killer deep fried them. I’m not sure what goes good with fried monkey eyeballs.”

Gillis scratched his head with his can of soda and said, “Anything deep fried tastes good, even monkey eyes. I like ketchup on anything deep fried. Hell, I’d eat a dirty sock if it was deep fried and I could put ketchup on it. Can I ask you a question without you being offended?”

WHAT PERSONAL QUESTION DOES GILLIS WANT TO ASK HIS PARTNER, DILL?  

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