Dick Sleuth's chronicles part 3. [No funny buissness]

[Boxy]

[Warning some aspects of the story may be exaggerated or completely untrue for the favor of the narrative, but it is all based on a true story]

[Warning this story contains mentions of brutal violence, gore and suicide read at your own digression]

An other night at the library,  the second place i can find peace and solitary nothing better then a cup of cheap coffee donuts and a good noir book to start a shift. I really need to escape my office more ive been getting cooked up with writing detailed reports, no baton or revolver on me  we are still on green yet at this point i know things can go wrong fast but i trust i could handle anything thrown my way in the way any true hardboiled seasoned detective would, my own two fists.
I am running low of noir books to read, hell i might be the only one writing them them,  its an ancient genre that originated in earth about rough worn down and grizzled detectives doing what needs to be done in a morally ambiguous setting
not many detectives in this station are worth their pipes, only few are hardboiled
enough wile also being able to write a decent report worth reading.  With this great power  comes to us the unending responsibility of writing noir books,  its a tough and unrewarding job but some one has to do it, and the name of that some one is detective sleuth.

Satisfied at having a full internal monologue  with out being suddenly and rudely interrupted for the first time i tuned my attention more to the radio, only to hear a cry for help from the nervous bartender pleading  for answers, answers that only a hardboiled detective could give.  and then heard it was about punpun,  PUN PUN the monkey that always made our day after a hard shift, the most veteran and best bartender in the station  he would slide donuts on his tail to every cop on the station.  He would always make the best puns  and wear that adorable little suit  he was the best man to my weddings for Christ sake.  

I drop my coffee and book and leave the donuts at the table, no time to warp up this was already personal,  I rushed to the bar with firey determination in my eyes.  The bartender had black tears on his face his makeup could not take away the tears or conceal his sadness.

I reach for my pocket and start recording the conversation.

Bartender: " He took  him,  he took pun pun " *Sobbing* " Pun pun is gone "

Sleuth: " I am here to find and save pun pun no matter the cost it takes,  right now i need you to concentrate and tell me what you saw who is he?"

Bartender: "m-m-mime took pun pun," "pu-n-n punn was just out to serve drinks until the mime rushed in grabed him and run away," 

"Oh god i heard him screaming after,  screeching with his tiny little monkey voice." "Why would anyone harm him he is a monkey"

Sleuth: Bartender, relax i am as shock about this as you are. I will find pun pun and bring him back to you.

The bartender gave me a hug i did not reciprocate,  its not that he wasn't a handsome man or not my type a hardboiled detective is meant to comfort any nervous broad faster then a porcelain fancy santa decoration. , its just all in my mind at that moment was the well being of pun pun time could be running out like a ticking clock of a time bob.

With no hesitation i power walked to mimes office with an angry expression on my face.

Nothing and i mean nothing could have prepare me for what i was about to see,  nothing and i mean nothing in my time as detective has even come close to the gore i was about to witness,  no cultist no blob monstrosity  no nukie has ever brought something so repulsively vile and gruesome to my eyes as this.  There punpun stood splayed out as a blood eagle, his guts and organs hanging out of his body,   his rib cage reversed to form twisted wings of flesh  his legs sown together  and his head missing. 

I was shook, tears in my eyes and vomit in the back of my throat. I was sickened to my stomach and a hurt to my soul, how could mime have done  mime always seemed like a nice quite lad how could it have been him.  Yet an other friend claimed by the  insatiable beast that was this station. How many do i have left? and how long.

I entered mimes office, i had an investigation to do despite the gore,  not for my sake  but the the sake of justice for the sake of pun pun. 

i scanned the office up and down,  from pun puns clothes to to the doors, wile the mime was the main suspect i could not leave the possibility of some one else having done this or bare to live with my self after i enact punpuns retribution to some one who had not done the crime.   As i had theorized, the mime only had fibers of his gloves in the front door, on the other hand the clown had his cheese smeared hands on punpun's clothes and the back maintenance door. I had in my hands the possibility of a frameing on top of the murder of pun pun.

outside the office a civilian gestured to me for a talk about what happened.  i walked up to them and started my recorder.

Sleuth: "Do you know what happened here? did you see who did it?"

Civilian:  "i saw a clown was wearing a mimes uniform he was holding punpun by the arm wile braking into mimes office,  then i ran to report to security,  now i am back and oh god its a mess  its gruesome"  "eughh e--EUGH" *the civilian pukes*

Sleuth: *I nearly avoid the puke getting to my fancy leather trench coat*  " I coldly ask how did you know it was the clown?"

Civilian: *Takes a moment to regain their bearings*  " i heard him speak in a way only a clown would, aww man my head hurts now, i think ill go home sorry for not being able to tell you more"

Sleuth: *nods

I had prints and a witness testimony, but i want to make a hundred percent sure it was the clown and not  the mime as the bartender said.  The hell i was about to unleash to who ever i caught for this.  There are no second chances just one. I walked to clowns office,  a small box layed on his chair. Inside the box layed a bloody hatchet  a hatched covered in the blood of pun pun and the prints of the clown.   The verdict was reached, i wouldn't even write a report my evidence was concrete.    I was out but not to make an arrest, detectives can't arrest people contrary to popular belief. No this would not be an arrest,  this would be a lynching i would see to that personally.

I left the office and started walking back to mine to retrieve my trusty revolver and baton, until a saw him, outside the bridge hallway,  Laughing ,  Making jokes. the  primordial anger of a hundred tiders erupting inside me my bear hands felt like full toolboxes,  I lunged at the clown and start punching him in the mouth until he fell like freshly cut timber.   I slapped cuffs on his hands and started dragging him on the ground to processing my eyes filled with rage and sorrow.  his blood leaving a wet crimson trail to security. Into processing he sat in front of me and two officers,  Pun pun was a friend of the whole department. he was there every morning with donuts and milk after every long security nightshift.  He was always there.   Oh why pun pun why did they take you.  WHY ALWAYS THE GOOD ONES.

We gave the clown a trial.  If you could doge our batons wile tied down and cuffed  that would prove the gods wouldn't want him harmed.

Chazz had the first hit,  a loud "thonk" followed by an electric crackle and a crack.   The clown spit  a tooth out and insisted he did not do it.

The pod pilot was next,  a strong punch on the clowns bright red nose, now redder with crimson blood.

i was last with my extendable baton connecting to the clowns kneecap.   The clown screamed in agony.  The trial had commenced and he was guilty.  The punishment would be exile to space, the pod pillot grabbed him as i and chazz cheered him on. the pod pilot shoved the clown cuffed in the pod drove it outside to space and and threw the clown out as me and chazz clapped joked and cheered.  until we were suddenly interrupted by the NT representative of all people, furious and screaming about our little space walk with clown.  screaming that we can't execute people for damage of property.    Pun pun is not just property, pun pun is family.    Screaming about how  he will have our asses in a platter and our jobs for NT were over, how our lives were over.  The pilot brought the clown back in,  we all stared at each other knowing how fucked we were once this got mailed to central.   We were esentially turned into civilians waiting to be sent to perma,  Chief brandy thanked us for our service and told us we were doing gods work for taking the dive as we were handing in our weapons and badges,  pun pun was close to her as any red colored cop in the station. But she had no choice but to fire us.   Our future looking bleak chazz was waiting in the lobby  for magistrate to write and mail the report. I on the other hand in the restrooms,  a russian revolver on my right hand a bag of candy corn in my left,  the things i have seen in this station,   the things ive done for this station,  the friends i lost in this station, my career as a detective,  but most importantly  pun pun  all lost in a day  all that i  had to live for all gone in the same day. I would end up in an NT labor camp and never work as a detective again.  I chugged down the whole bag of precious candy corn in one sitting, I took the pushed the guns safety back with a loud click. i cocked the hammer of the revolver,  just one pull and all my problems would be no more.    My hand trembled trying to squeeze the trigger until on the radio i heard the NT Rep speak. 

NT rep: " Help The  MUUUGHM"

NT rep:  "Clown is taking me to Mghmm"

Nt rep: "Disposals" 

I quickly jumped out of bathroom stall,  this was right in my way.  Maybe i could get my revenge after all before i die.

On a high sugar rush from the candy corn i rushed disposals  the Russian revolver still on my right hand.  as i entered i saw the clown with a healing parasite behind him near the lever,  the NT rep tied down on a conveyor belt duct tape on his mouth right on the disposals machine. as i walked in i slipped on the banana and dropped my Russian revolver.  The clown honked and pulled the lever.   NT rep and everything on him was gone for good.  With a smug grin the clown approached me and took the Russian revolver. 

Clown: "Detective  now that you have seen your friends death there is only one loose end,  prepare to meet pun pun detective."

The clown pulled the trigger,    the parasite vanishes to thin air,   the clown stands with a confused expression on his face and a bullet hole on his head  as i get up.  

Sleuth:  "Looks like your plan backfired, i would say you were going to meet pun pun to beat you for all eternity but you are going to hell"

I use one finger to press the button on my shades to release a loud YEAAAAAAAAAAH! and the other to push the dying clown down.

The door behind me opens, and i hear the voice of brandy telling me i have some explaining to do.

A walk to her office and a crazy story later me chazz and the pilot would be re-hired, brandy explained:  after all there was no evidence that we took the clown for a space ride before he was a confirmed eoc, and he was an uncontainable eoc who committed suicide.  Its not like central would know as no one in security would snitch and they had my back, all evidence of what happened ware on NT rep and she was now a pile of deformed organic  goo, yet an other poor casualty of the mad clown that i all alone stopped. I was given a medal, two bags of candy corn, my job back and the rest of the day off.

But i would never be given back pun pun lost for ever in pain and suffering, i am back where i began but no with no one to cheer me up after a long shift.  I still wonder if i should have pulled the trigger back in that toilet, would i have the land of unending candy corn and broads?

Guess its not my time yet.

(This book was written as a tribute to pun pun, rest in peace)

 

Edited April 10, 2021 by Boxy
Candy cane instead of candy corn