One Last Task

"Let me guess," said the young gamer. "Laundry day. Nothing clean?"
Jack Spraggit was standing in the middle of Uptown Chicago. He hadn't planned on being here. But that wasn't up to him. As he stood there, in his pajamas, with a large display board tied to his torso, he thought about his options. What would he do if all hell broke loose? Was this even in the police manual? On the front of his torso sign, it read: "I Hate XBOX!"
This was shaping up to be a pretty bad day. The terrorist known only as Microandales had just bombed CBOT in downtown Chicago. No one knew what his next target would be. Was it even a he? Spraggit was already bitter at the fact that he had been forced to do this. Didn't they know that Uptown was ground zero for rabid XBOX fans? Maybe they did. That was the thing. Murphy's law. Anything that could go wrong would. Just then, the young gamer pulled out a sharp object. It was a dull pencil. He threw it at Spraggit's torso sign as if it were a sharpened glitter knife. It hit the sign, left a deep pencil mark, and then flew to the floor.
"Ooh, I'm sorry baby," said the gamer as he proceeded to run over, pick the pencil up off the ground, and stroke it like a pet turtle.
"You've really upset the nerds now," said an innocent bystander, looking at Spraggit with a whistle.
"It's part of the job," said Spraggit.
A combination of fear and disgust forced him to call it a day and head home for the evening.
The next morning, when Spraggit was at the office, the phone rang. Landline. Spraggit picked up the receiver.
"Mommy, I told you I'm a grown man now," said Spraggit. "Stop calling me at work."
"Do I look like your mother?" said the processed, indecipherable voice on the other end. It was the terrorist!
"Well, in my defense, I really don't know what you look like. I was hoping you could help me with that."
"Oh, no, buddy. I'm not falling for that one again! I-"
"Look, Picasso, maybe you don't understand how police work...works, okay? You give me the evidence, I follow the leads. You get busted. I send you to juvie. Does that make sense."
"Juvie? I'm in my friggin forties!"
"Prove it!"
"I'm not some private, pompous pencil pusher. I'm the greatest mastermind the Midwest has ever seen!"
"Uh, huh. So was my grandma. A lot of good that did her. Now, if you're not going to confess, I have an XBOX convention to go to in my UNDERWEAR!"
"You know, I was going to let you off the hook, but I have one last task to complete."
"What is that?"
"Can I use your Netflix?"
"What?"
"Your Netflix. Can I use it?"
"What is this, Circus Clowns Daily?"
"Nice try, but no."
"Look buddy. My my money, my connection, my friggin' shows!"