Creative fun in
the palm of your hand.
Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2129227
Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Detective · #2129227
A new member joins the team and the bust things never gets old.
Albert Squab and the Case of the New Recruit

“You rape what you sew.”
-H Stanson the Rat Bastard

The sun was beginning to go down and Squab Detective Agency remained open.
“How much longer do we have to be here?” hacked Lassarus, “It's as good there as it is anywhere else.”
Squab was giving directions to Stanson on the placement of the freshly delivered bust of Robusto Gusto the Circus Strongman. They had been moving from place to place all day long trying to find a spot that did it justice.
“I think we are close,” Squab started, “Lets just put it in the entryway next to Lassarus' desk so people can see it immediately upon arrival.”
“That' all the way in then other room,” Stanson complained.
Stanson was exhausted and, on an unrelated note, very ugly. The combination of these two unfortunate circumstances was the reason for his low morale.
“Another good observation there Stanson,” mocked Squab, “but let's leave the thinking to the less retarded.”
Stanson picked up the bust, which wasn't very heavy. It was just a normal bust so it doesn't make a ton of sense as to why Stanson was so tired. I mean how many times would you have to move a normal sized bust before you got tired. It would be like a hundred times...
Anyways, once Stanson had left the others and was about to put the bust where it belonged when Street Jack the Alley Cat entered the agency.
“Look alive asshole,” Street Jack said playfully as he flipped the bust out of Stansons hands. The bust shattered on the ground into hundreds of little pieces as Street Jack brushed past Stanson to join the group in the other room. Stanson was in shock.
“What it is what it do fellas?” inquired Street Jack as he entered the main room.
“Just wrapping up another hard days work. You know, I think I could go for a milkshake right about now,” Squab said.
“Yeah I'll take one too,” added Lassarus.
“A milkshake would really hit the spot,” added Street Jack.
As this occurred the three of them sat down on the sofa and chairs. They all got comfortable and there was a moment of confusion as to who was going to bring them their much desired milkshakes. Squab, feeling that he would be held responsible for the milkshakes for being the one who brought it up, decided to ignore that it ever happened and change the subject.
“Lassarus have you lost weight?” asked Squab.
Before Lassarus could respond to the inquiry Street Jack made an outburst.
“I'm part of the group, okay? I didn't come here so you guys could have a little action on the side. I'm the one putting in the effort to come down here, ya know? You guys are here every day having fun with your quips and banter and when I show up you look at me like I missed the party. Sorry I don't come around at the peak times of the day. I'm trying to be courteous to your business hours and not bother you when you're open.”
“Why would you be afraid of coming by while we are open?” Lassaruss asked not unused to have the spotlight stolen from her.
Street Jack, now very pumped about the issue, replied, “Cus the last time I came here Squab said I was scaring away high class clientele with my “urban teen” attitude. I don't even think you guys get any clientele. Have you guys ever even solved a case.”
“Oh come on, we solve tons of cases. What the hell do you even do? Street Jack?” squab defended.
“Are you serious?! I'm out there on the streets with the people. The real people. The working class while you guys sit here in your ivory tower looking down on us.”
Squab quickly leans in close and whisper yells, “So your homeless. You're goddamn homeless and you come in here asking how many cases I've solved?” Street Jack sits back feeling embarrassed. “Now I'm pissed,” complained squab accepting his mental state, “I'm royally steamed.”
Some time passes as they sit in silent reflection, each beginning to accept the truth about their situations. Lassarus, being the only one not in a moment of self reflection, gave a suggestion.
“Well if Street Jack needs an income and wants to spend more time around here, why don't we give him a job?”
“Because we don't have the authority to give him a job. I do. What do you say Street Jack, you want to join the agency?” proposed Squab.
Street Jack, as if that was obviously what he wanted all along says, “Well yeah man, that seems reasonable to me.”
Squab and Street Jack stand up and shake hands confirming that Street Jack will be filling the junior detective position effective immediately. The three of them spend some time celebrating until they decide to retire for the evening.
“Well I guess we'll be seeing you tomorrow,” said Squab to Street Jack.
Street Jacks smiled as they all exit into the entry of the agency. There they discovered Stanson putting the last piece of the bust back together with glue. The bust was warped and deformed from the pastes used to try and assemble it. Squab was in shock and in a last ditch effort to avoid opposition Stanson put his fedora atop the head of the bust and gave a shrug as if it were a proposition to remedy the accident. This, for an unknown reason, was enough for Squab to brush it off. They all left the agency feeling good about another very productive day.

© Copyright 2017 P. Parker (crustyhonches at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Log in to Leave Feedback
Not a Member?
Signup right now, for free!
All accounts include:
*Bullet* FREE Email @Writing.Com!
*Bullet* FREE Portfolio Services!
Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2129227