Six Blade Knife
16 November 2006
Harry was wandering the streets late at night, he had found that when gathering evidence, the most efficient method of doing so was simply to wander the streets and the evidence would come to you. No need to waste precious energy trying to uncover it yourself and this way he got to enjoy an ice cream - one scoop Orange Chocolate Chip, the other Cookies & Cream. He was sure this was what Humphrey Bogart would eat if he was out pounding the pavement gathering up the clues. Along with his cigar. And bourbon.
He would drive but when he purchased his car he fell under the trap of asymmetrical information. That's when one party of economic exchange (either the seller or buyer) knows more about the product than the other. You see, Harry and most other consumers cannot tell the difference between a good second hand car and a crap second hand car. This fact lowers the market price for cars which drives all the good cars out of the market, meaning that when you purchase a second hand car - there's a high probability that you've got a lemon on your hands. Harry had succumbed to this probability - which was why he walked.
"Hello Harry"
Harry turned and saw a man, Harry had never seen him before. He looked kinda weird, maybe it was the bad taste clothes, more likely it was the knife that was protruding from his head...
"I'm dead."
"You look good"
"I'd like to get rid of the knife but it's not coming out"
"It works for you"
"Ah huh"
"So you're a ghost? Is that cool?"
Harry swooped his hand through the ghost and watched it go straight through him. The ghost wasn't impressed.
"Please don't do that. I'm not exactly that secure about my death."
"Whatever"
"I'm Dr. Jeffrey Fishbait. The owner of the lentil factory. And the guy whose death you're investigating"
"You were the owner of the lentil factory."
"Yeah I said that."
"No, you said you are the owner of the lentil factory. But you were the owner of the factory"
"What? I'm certain you've made many grammatical mistakes since we started this conversation"
"Whatever... I'm outta here dead man."
Harry started to walk away, but Jeffrey yelled back out to him.
"Wait! Don't you want to know why I'm here? Why I haven't crossed over to the other side? I have unfinished business! It's the vampires! I have information about my death!"
But Harry kept walking. He didn't have much time for ghosts who didn't respect the proper use of tenses.
After being unable to gather up any clues for the investigation, Harry went back to the office. He hated it when the investigation stalled. Though he was more concerned that he didn't get any financial details from the mysterious lady that hired him. No point billing up lots of hours if he wasn't going to get paid for them.
There was a knock on his door and Sir Lollipop entered. He looked quite shook up.
"Hey Harry, there's some serious shit going down at Suckles."
Harry though was unconcerned.
"Hey, I have a secretary. You're meant to go through the proper appointment process."
"What? Cristy? She's dead."
"Cristy is not dead."
"She is. She had cancer. The slow debilitating painful kind. She died last week."
"No wonder she was so annoyed when I didn't give her time off."
Harry had a flashback to the last conversation he had with his secretary Cristy...
"Please boss, this is the last time I might get to see my son."
"Shut the fuck up and work."
"OK"
His flashback ended and he was back in the present.
"Man, she was a snippy woman. I'm better off without her."
A silence had filled the room as Sir Lollipop had forgotten the reason he came in the first place.
"Got any alcohol?"
"Does the pope shit in the woods?"
"I hope not."
"I've got some."
"Cool"
So they drunk. Then walked in another man, it was one of Harry's informants. Though Harry hadn't seen him in months because he hadn't actually required much information. His codename was Vulture, which was so much cooler than his real name of Dylan. He spoke with a deep voice that sound like his throat was moving through a bed of nails just in order to make noise. As a child, teenager and through most of his young life Dylan had a very high voice that made him more suited for choir work than for the rough and rumble world of private investigation. So he had surgery to make his voice one Clint Eastwood would kill for. He was now the epiphany of masculinity - so he was confused that he still didn't get the ladies.
"The vampires are revolting"
What a great voice he had. Unfortunately for him, it hurt so much to talk that he could only manage four words an hour. So Dylan promptly left. Unable to actually do anything else. He did however give Sir Lollipop his memory back to fill in the empty air.
"Oh right! That's what I came to tell you. Lady Anika has claimed responsibility for killing that lentil guy and has now mobilised the vampires for their revolution. Some serious shit is about to go down."
"I thought this kind of thing happened all the time?"
"Yeah, but it all mellows out after an hour. I mean no one really cares. They all drink their Russian Caravan tea, get drunk and nothing much happens. This Lady Anika is different."
"Hmmm. So she killed Dr. Jeffrey Fishbait?"
"Who?"
"The lentil guy."
"That's what she's claiming."
"Why?"
"I don't know. Something about him being a vampire hater."
"What? The same guy that spent ten years studying gender studies knows about vampires? That doesn't make sense."
"Hey, don't diss gender studies. It's important."
"Whatever. My point is, this guy knows shit about the Cable underground. He spent all his time in his cushy office, discussing the relationship between Marxism and feminism, improving his golf handicap and occasionally dealing with the production of lentils. He doesn't know shit about vampires."
There was a crash in the corner. Harry and Sir Lollipop looked across the room and the saw the ghost of Dr. Jeffrey Fishbait.
"That's what I was trying to explain to you before!"
Harry just got angry with this new visitor.
"Look! I would have thought by the way I ignored you before that you would of got it through your thick skull..."
"I'm transparent you fuckhead. My skull ain't thick."
"That's just semantics man. Look, I want nothing to do with you. You mean nothing to me, now get your dead arse out my office."
"I mean nothing to you? You're investigating my death!"
"That's privileged information. Investigator-Client confidentiality. Now get out!"
"I have information"
"I'm not listening"
Harry put his fingers in his ears, poked his tongue out and started to make an annoying noise. Yes, Harry was very mature. So the ghost of Dr. Jeffrey Fishbait left, Harry looked over to Sir Lollipop and sighed.
"Some people think, that simply because they're dead that they can be as rude as they like. What is this world coming to?"
Posted byBren at 12:11 am
Labels: Cable
