Article Noir Casefiles: "THE ORIENTAL RUNDOWN"
Sometimes people come to me for help.
They may have seen my name in the phonebook--PEnnsylvania-8-3005, I'm in the Yellow Pages under "Gumshoes, Gritty and Garrulous"--or maybe they just catch my weekly radio drama on the Monotoli Broadcasting System. Who knows. But one thing's for certain: nobody comes to me, Liar Lasciviously, unless something's serious. This was serious.
"You can't be serious," I said. The dame was standing in front of me, arms folded tighter than Shawn Kemp's bicycle shorts. She wore a flat-colored dress and a leering face.
"I'm serious, Mr. Lasciviously," She said, suddenly pretending to be vulnerable. "I wouldn't come to you unless something was... serious."
"Okay, okay, honey. Tell me what it's about, again. But slowly."
"Well, y'see, it's just--I live in a nice, quiet part of town. Or I did. But now, now--well, it's awful, Liar." Dame's about as vulnerable as Fort Knox, and a bad actor, but I let her keep on. "Some Oriental gang has seen fit to reveal the location of our, ah, quiet part of town. Things aren't looking good."
"Quiet part of town? Whaddyou mean exactly, sister? I'm not up for any more runaround, my wing-tips are killing me." I lit a cigarette, to make a point. "Take me to this town, buddy. I'll check out your Orientals, but there has to be more to this."
So we went, wound our way through wistful corridors and all that, and sure enough eventually we did find a quiet part of this crazy town. I thought about moving the office. But then the Dame interrupted me.
"Here we are, the house. I gotta, ah, go in first, stay here a second." Suspicious. When someone talks me up like that I know something's going down. So as she lets the door creak open slowly, I walk up behind her and burst through the door.
Staring back at me, hands up, are more people than I can count in blue robes and hoods, dumbfounded as Jessica Simpson's Dietician. "Ah ha!" I said, letting my gun down and pushing my hat up, so they can get a look at me. "You people are a cult!"
"It's not what you think!" Dame says, and turns on the waterworks. "We just really, really, really..."
She went on that for five minutes.
"Really, really love EarthBound. And other things, like we really re--"
"I get it, I get it." I don't own a television, or a Superb Funtendo, but I've heard good things. "So maybe I'll keep you off the radar for a while. But what's this about a bunch of Orientals?"
One of the hoods walked up to me, shook my hand. "They're Japanese, Sir, Oriental is--"
"This is a period piece, mack."
"But that doesn't reasonably explain the presence of Shawn Kemp, who was--" I glared at him. "Oh. Right. In any case, these Japa--Orientals are advertising about us. On television, even. It's only a matter of time before everybody wants to wear a blue hood, and let's face it--we can't handle that much rabble."
I sighed. Some mystery; I thought about killing one of them, while there was time, then hiding the body and finding it, but that would have been too much work. "Kid, I hate to get all moralistic, here, because I'm a tough gunfighter who's seen too many good people get shot down to be moral--it says so on the radio--but weren't you green once, too?" The pun was an accident I immediately regretted.
"You're--you're right, I guess. It wasn't until I unearthed the proper way to act in the cult that I found myself bound for groupthink happiness!"
"Well, it's good you've come to that. Now, show these new cult members a little courtesy, all right?"
Ah, common decency. Just another day in the life when you're Liar Lasciviously... Private E--
"If you say so, Mr. Lasciviously! I'll give them more than Onett chance!"
Liar Lasciviously, Private--
"You don't have to tell me Threed times!"
Liar Lasciviously, Private--
"More like Private I'm glad we could have this talk!"
Tune in next time on Liar Lasciviously, Private Eye for Episode Three: Liar Lasciviously brutally murders a pun-making cult-member.
Sometimes people come to me for help.
They may have seen my name in the phonebook--PEnnsylvania-8-3005, I'm in the Yellow Pages under "Gumshoes, Gritty and Garrulous"--or maybe they just catch my weekly radio drama on the Monotoli Broadcasting System. Who knows. But one thing's for certain: nobody comes to me, Liar Lasciviously, unless something's serious. This was serious.
"You can't be serious," I said. The dame was standing in front of me, arms folded tighter than Shawn Kemp's bicycle shorts. She wore a flat-colored dress and a leering face.
"I'm serious, Mr. Lasciviously," She said, suddenly pretending to be vulnerable. "I wouldn't come to you unless something was... serious."
"Okay, okay, honey. Tell me what it's about, again. But slowly."
"Well, y'see, it's just--I live in a nice, quiet part of town. Or I did. But now, now--well, it's awful, Liar." Dame's about as vulnerable as Fort Knox, and a bad actor, but I let her keep on. "Some Oriental gang has seen fit to reveal the location of our, ah, quiet part of town. Things aren't looking good."
"Quiet part of town? Whaddyou mean exactly, sister? I'm not up for any more runaround, my wing-tips are killing me." I lit a cigarette, to make a point. "Take me to this town, buddy. I'll check out your Orientals, but there has to be more to this."
So we went, wound our way through wistful corridors and all that, and sure enough eventually we did find a quiet part of this crazy town. I thought about moving the office. But then the Dame interrupted me.
"Here we are, the house. I gotta, ah, go in first, stay here a second." Suspicious. When someone talks me up like that I know something's going down. So as she lets the door creak open slowly, I walk up behind her and burst through the door.
Staring back at me, hands up, are more people than I can count in blue robes and hoods, dumbfounded as Jessica Simpson's Dietician. "Ah ha!" I said, letting my gun down and pushing my hat up, so they can get a look at me. "You people are a cult!"
"It's not what you think!" Dame says, and turns on the waterworks. "We just really, really, really..."
She went on that for five minutes.
"Really, really love EarthBound. And other things, like we really re--"
"I get it, I get it." I don't own a television, or a Superb Funtendo, but I've heard good things. "So maybe I'll keep you off the radar for a while. But what's this about a bunch of Orientals?"
One of the hoods walked up to me, shook my hand. "They're Japanese, Sir, Oriental is--"
"This is a period piece, mack."
"But that doesn't reasonably explain the presence of Shawn Kemp, who was--" I glared at him. "Oh. Right. In any case, these Japa--Orientals are advertising about us. On television, even. It's only a matter of time before everybody wants to wear a blue hood, and let's face it--we can't handle that much rabble."
I sighed. Some mystery; I thought about killing one of them, while there was time, then hiding the body and finding it, but that would have been too much work. "Kid, I hate to get all moralistic, here, because I'm a tough gunfighter who's seen too many good people get shot down to be moral--it says so on the radio--but weren't you green once, too?" The pun was an accident I immediately regretted.
"You're--you're right, I guess. It wasn't until I unearthed the proper way to act in the cult that I found myself bound for groupthink happiness!"
"Well, it's good you've come to that. Now, show these new cult members a little courtesy, all right?"
Ah, common decency. Just another day in the life when you're Liar Lasciviously... Private E--
"If you say so, Mr. Lasciviously! I'll give them more than Onett chance!"
Liar Lasciviously, Private--
"You don't have to tell me Threed times!"
Liar Lasciviously, Private--
"More like Private I'm glad we could have this talk!"
Tune in next time on Liar Lasciviously, Private Eye for Episode Three: Liar Lasciviously brutally murders a pun-making cult-member.
