Some Unlikely PIs - Aliens, Neanderthals and Cats...oh my
Well, I thought I would dig out some old stuff I did featuring some unlikely PIs. Today, the Stone Age PI and the Alien PI. Tomorrow, the cat PI.
STONE, PI
Being a PI in 2010BC really sucked. Of course, we didn't call it 2010BC - we called it The Year The Woolly Mammoth Ate My Brother. Things were slow at Stone investigations. That's me - Stone - so called because when I was born, a Stone was the first thing I grasped. It coulda been worse. My brother, Cowpat, never had any luck – poor bastard. As I was saying, the PI game in prehistoric Britain was as slow as a Diplodocus with a limp. I was beginning to think I'd gone into the wrong job. I should have listened to my father and gone into the family Interior Cave Design business.
Instead, I was stuck tracing missing pet Stegosauri and tailing errant husbands. I sighed, and longed for the day when someone would invent fire so that I could deal with a nice juicy arson case. I reached into my drawer and pulled out the bowl of Elderflower Juice I kept there - man, that stuff has a kick. Just then the door opened and in walked a vision of loveliness. She sashayed into my office, her buttocks looking like a pair of baby brontosauri fighting in a sack.
MURDER ON THE ZOGIAN EXPRESS
She was a three eyed, dome headed beauty from the planet Bolgan and I knew she was trouble. When she walked into my office that day I was sitting with one foot up on the scratched desk top, one resting on the upturned waste paper basket, and the other tapping gently on the floor to the sounds of Alien Sex Fiend - an ancient old time punk band from the planet earth.
The bright red glow from the two Zogian suns outside the window of my office shone through the window, causing my visitor to narrow all her eyes and squint at me in that slightly accusatory way that the Bolgans have. At that moment, the famous old adage, 'Never get involved with a three eyed, dome headed Bolgan beauty' passed fleetingly through my brain. I wish it had stopped for a while, pulled up a brain cell, and rested its weary feet. They say hindsight's a wonderful thing. At least, they do on the planet Mirmar where they have eyes in the backs of their pointy little heads.
Anyway, when she walked into my office I was taking a pull on the bottle of Grogon juice that I keep there to while away time on the slack days. Unfortunately, this year has been 842 slack days long. You'd think as the only PI on the planet Zog, I would be inundated with work. But no. When they sent me down to earth to live among the pasty faced ignorant humans for a while to pick my future career path, I should have
remembered that there's no crime on Zog and focused instead on nuclear physics. In popular earth culture classes, when all my fellow Zogians were sniggering uncontrollably over episodes of Star Trek, I was devouring the works of Raymond Chandler, Dashiell Hammett, Agatha Christie. I took up smoking, learned how to knit, and bought a fedora.I should have bought two, since I have 2 heads, but, hey, I'm killing time by knitting myself another one from baby blue wool.
"Aratsafar Zabalagorian?" said the beauty. "Private Investigator?"
"That's me sweetheart." I said through almost immobile lips, with the slight lisp I'd cultivated (did I mention culture classes also included Humphrey Bogart films?)
I took another swig of Grogon juice and winced as it burned its fiery way down my throats. "But this stuff," I waved the glass at her "is almost as much of a mouthful as my name. So I've changed it. My name I mean."
On my return from planet earth, battered and well thunbed papaerbacks in hand (well, they would have been well-thumbed if I'd had thumbs, but, of course, being a Zogian, I don't), I'd decided to change my name - call myself something more in keeping with my heroic ideal of the rumpled PI with an eye for the dames, a cynical swagger, and my trusty .38 special.
"So?" she said. "What do I call you?"
"The name's Marple. But you can call me Miss."
STONE, PI
Being a PI in 2010BC really sucked. Of course, we didn't call it 2010BC - we called it The Year The Woolly Mammoth Ate My Brother. Things were slow at Stone investigations. That's me - Stone - so called because when I was born, a Stone was the first thing I grasped. It coulda been worse. My brother, Cowpat, never had any luck – poor bastard. As I was saying, the PI game in prehistoric Britain was as slow as a Diplodocus with a limp. I was beginning to think I'd gone into the wrong job. I should have listened to my father and gone into the family Interior Cave Design business.
Instead, I was stuck tracing missing pet Stegosauri and tailing errant husbands. I sighed, and longed for the day when someone would invent fire so that I could deal with a nice juicy arson case. I reached into my drawer and pulled out the bowl of Elderflower Juice I kept there - man, that stuff has a kick. Just then the door opened and in walked a vision of loveliness. She sashayed into my office, her buttocks looking like a pair of baby brontosauri fighting in a sack.
MURDER ON THE ZOGIAN EXPRESS
She was a three eyed, dome headed beauty from the planet Bolgan and I knew she was trouble. When she walked into my office that day I was sitting with one foot up on the scratched desk top, one resting on the upturned waste paper basket, and the other tapping gently on the floor to the sounds of Alien Sex Fiend - an ancient old time punk band from the planet earth.
The bright red glow from the two Zogian suns outside the window of my office shone through the window, causing my visitor to narrow all her eyes and squint at me in that slightly accusatory way that the Bolgans have. At that moment, the famous old adage, 'Never get involved with a three eyed, dome headed Bolgan beauty' passed fleetingly through my brain. I wish it had stopped for a while, pulled up a brain cell, and rested its weary feet. They say hindsight's a wonderful thing. At least, they do on the planet Mirmar where they have eyes in the backs of their pointy little heads.
Anyway, when she walked into my office I was taking a pull on the bottle of Grogon juice that I keep there to while away time on the slack days. Unfortunately, this year has been 842 slack days long. You'd think as the only PI on the planet Zog, I would be inundated with work. But no. When they sent me down to earth to live among the pasty faced ignorant humans for a while to pick my future career path, I should have
remembered that there's no crime on Zog and focused instead on nuclear physics. In popular earth culture classes, when all my fellow Zogians were sniggering uncontrollably over episodes of Star Trek, I was devouring the works of Raymond Chandler, Dashiell Hammett, Agatha Christie. I took up smoking, learned how to knit, and bought a fedora.I should have bought two, since I have 2 heads, but, hey, I'm killing time by knitting myself another one from baby blue wool.
"Aratsafar Zabalagorian?" said the beauty. "Private Investigator?"
"That's me sweetheart." I said through almost immobile lips, with the slight lisp I'd cultivated (did I mention culture classes also included Humphrey Bogart films?)
I took another swig of Grogon juice and winced as it burned its fiery way down my throats. "But this stuff," I waved the glass at her "is almost as much of a mouthful as my name. So I've changed it. My name I mean."
On my return from planet earth, battered and well thunbed papaerbacks in hand (well, they would have been well-thumbed if I'd had thumbs, but, of course, being a Zogian, I don't), I'd decided to change my name - call myself something more in keeping with my heroic ideal of the rumpled PI with an eye for the dames, a cynical swagger, and my trusty .38 special.
"So?" she said. "What do I call you?"
"The name's Marple. But you can call me Miss."
Views: 17
Comment
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Comment by Donna Moore on April 15, 2007 at 7:10am
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Thank you Thomas and Nikki! I'm glad you enjoyed it :o)
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Comment by Thomas Woertche on April 14, 2007 at 6:28pm
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This IS brilliant, indeed ....
Thomas Woertche
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Yvonne - aaaaaaah Mrs Sese-Seko - how I miss her and the rest of the Dead Dictators' Widows' Society.
Daniel - LOL. Paying me to STOP more like. And thanks :o)
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Comment by Daniel Hatadi on April 14, 2007 at 10:22am
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Donna, quit writing stuff this good. Everyone's gonna think I'm paying you.
Seriously, another fine post geared towards the spraying of coffee on computer.
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Comment by Yvonne Klein on April 14, 2007 at 1:59am
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Donna, I remain unconvinced about the unalloyed joys of Crimespace, but if it gives me the chance to read your uncollected MS, then it's worth the computer crashes and general creepiness of having total strangers wanting to be my friend. (So did Mrs Sese-Seko and you know where THAT leads.)
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