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Post by PJ on Jul 5, 2006 0:14:17 GMT -5
COMING SOON A Detective Story, by PJ (art by Annelise) This story was inspired by the recent rash of PJ-sightings all over the world. Chapter One up tonight.
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Post by deanna. on Jul 5, 2006 0:32:45 GMT -5
Ooh, your lack of information intrigues me.
Sorry if that sounded sarcastic, because it wasn't meant to be. I really am interested.
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Post by Linda Rhaldeen on Jul 5, 2006 1:11:15 GMT -5
I saw a nine-year-old PJ the other day. I take it you've begun to infiltrate the ranks of children now? I guess we'll find out.
Is this that story you were talking about ages ago, where evil PJ clones take over the world and I accidentally kill the real PJ?
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Post by PJ on Jul 5, 2006 1:52:51 GMT -5
Yep. Except I changed the ending. I couldn't kill off myself. I just couldn't.
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Post by PJ on Jul 5, 2006 6:41:19 GMT -5
A Detective Story
Chapter One - Murder, Coffee, and the Police
The phone rang. Jenna Sottle - who had been, up until that moment, dreaming pleasantly of a Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert performing rather lewd acts – awoke. She threw away the filthy brown blanket and fell of her sheet-less bed (money had been hard to come by recently). With an animalistic growl, she lunged for the phone, smashing headlong into a chest of drawers. She lay panting on the floor for a few seconds, her head ringing, before her hand snaked up and snatched the phone off the hook.
“Hello?” She snarled, still sitting on the floor, looking decidedly unhappy. “Wait, who?” She replied, crawling around the floor of her room searching for a shirt to wear. She found one. “Oh. It’s you. Why are you calling me at this time of the day?” Jenna demanded, crawling into her shirt. She stood.
“What? It’s still night, isn’t it?” She replied, bewildered, and stumbled over to her window, and threw the curtains open. The blaze of sunlight blinded her and she dove back into bed, cowering under her blanket. “WHAT?” She shouted, a moment later into the telephone, erupting from underneath the blanket.
“I’ll be there as soon as possible.” She promised, slamming the phone down. She checked her watch. It was 12 AM. She rubbed her eyes and tried to find some pants. Today, she decided, was one of those days. After searching for her fedora for a few minute, she discovered that she had been sleeping on it, and jammed the somewhat crumpled headpiece onto her head. She gathered up her wallet, shoving it into one of the large pockets of her black coat, and grabbed two slices of bread on her way out, tripping over the doormat, and mysteriously losing one of the pieces of bread.
Twenty minutes and one slice of bread later, she arrived at the police station. She barged in, right past a surprised policewoman, and strolled down the hallways, as though she knew exactly where she was going. She didn’t. After another twenty minutes of aimless wandering, she found the office she was looking for: That of Libitina, Head of Police.
Well, Libitina was one of them. Setnick was the other, and governed West-town, just as Libitina ruled over East-town. PJ, the last Police Chief, had been assigned the smallest third of the city, North-town. In fact, it was PJ that had brought Jenna here today.
“Where is he?” Jenna demanded, as she opened the office door. Libitina, who had been enjoying a hot cup of coffee, and was staring out the window, glanced irritably at the private detective. “He’s in a cell. Downstairs.” Libitina put the coffee mug down, and moved towards the window, staring out. “It’s a strange case, and I hope you can do what you can.” She said passionately. “I think he’s innocent, but what can we do?” “I’ll go down then, I guess.” Jenna said, leaving the office. Libitina stood at that spot for quite some time, simply staring out of her window, and when she finally returned to her desk, she discovered the Jenna had stolen her coffee.
Jenna went down some stairs, sipping coffee. A guard tried to halt her, but she just waved him away with her cup. The fact that it said “Libitina” on it in big red letters probably helped. She got another guard to show her where PJ was. They passed a long row of jail cells, housing various criminals who had committed various different crimes, a few of which Jenna recognized. The Illustrious Pig, for instance, a rather poor master criminal, was sleeping in his cot. His “reign” of “terror” had ended about a year ago, and he was still sitting out his prison term. Then they alighted upon PJ’s cell.
Police Chief PJ, whose domain was North-town, one of the most respectable, if crooked, members of the entire city, sat in his jail cell, staring glumly at the floor. Upon hearing footsteps, he looked up and saw Jenna, after which he smiled sadly.
“Hey, J.” PJ said, unmoving. J. was what Jenna’s friends called her. Her enemies called her Jay-Hole, but only behind her back. “I’d make some kind of ironic joke about you being in a jail cell, but that would be lame and clichéd. So tell me what happened.”
“Well, this morning, I awoke to the noise of a cadre of policemen forcing their way into my house. They, if possible, were even more surprised than I was. Apparently, they had thought I’d have fled, or something.” “Go on.” Jenna said, downing the last of the coffee, and placing the mug on the floor of the jail.
“I inquired as to what the hell they were doing in my house at such an ungodly hour, and was promptly arrested, and brought here. Libitina came down to speak to me. Apparently Mr. Poe got himself murdered last night, and some witness has decided that it was me who did the deed.” PJ sighed loudly. “I’ve often dreamed about killing that idiot, and I would have done it, just it seems I never found the time to do it.” He stood, and grabbed the bars of his cell, as though testing them.
“It wasn’t me, though. You know it wasn’t me.” He said softly, peering into Jenna’s eyes. Jenna didn’t know for sure, but she was still pretty certain he hadn’t done it. PJ settled back onto his bed. “Well…” Jenna said, thinking about it.
“There are three possibilities here.” She finally said. PJ nodded. “One, the witness is either an idiot with bad eye-sight, or has it in for you.” “I doubt it. It’s Akbar. And he swore it was me. Had there been any doubt, he would have said so.” PJ said, sighing loudly. “Well, then there’s only two possibilities. Unless Akbar had some reason to want to frame you for murder?” “Nope.”
“Well, then either someone who looks remarkably like you, PJ, has come to our fair city – only recently, mind, cos a PJ-lookalike would have been noticed after a while-” “Doubtful.” PJ interrupted. “-or someone somehow made themselves look like you, and framed you for the murder.”
There was a silence. PJ had already made this conclusion. “Any enemies with the motive for this type of thing?” Jenna asked, casually. PJ scowled at her. “I’m a police chief, J.” Jenna rolled her eyes. “Anyone in particular…?”
“Well, there was a bit of a problem with Gigi a while back, but it was settled.” “So…no-one comes to mind?” “Well…no. The only person I really hated was Poe, but he’s dead. I spect he was chosen cos I hate him so much…makes it seem more…plausible.”
“Right. So what do you want me to do? Why did you have Libitina call me?” “Well…” PJ seemed to consider. “I suppose if you exposed this other!PJ to the world, that would probably help.” “Right. So.” Jenna hummed briefly, and PJ grew agitated.
“Can you stop thinking about money for once?” He said angrily. “My trial is tomorrow, and I’m almost certain to be sentenced to death!” “Oh.” Jenna said, looking crestfallen. “Fine. $ 100 a day plus expenses. If you get me out of this, I’ll triple whatever I already owe you.” Jenna’s eyes lit up. “Well, I had better go pay the morgue a visit, then.” Jenna said, leaving PJ and Libitina’s coffee mug behind her.
Although the travails of Libitina’s coffee mug are surprisingly interesting to read about, they are hardly relevant to the story, so we’ll have a look at Police Chief PJ, instead.
Police Chief PJ was innocent. No, really. He was. Some disgruntled gang boss had probably been behind the other!PJ. But he couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out who it was, and why it had been done. He sat back on his pallet, and tried to sleep.
Meanwhile, halfway across town, a creature that looked, spoke, and, to a certain extent, even acted like PJ, sat in an abandoned, run-down warehouse, reading the morning’s newspaper, which had been scrounged from a trashcan. The other!PJ’s eyes alighted on the title story: “Police Chief murders citizen”. His eyes widened. He scanned the article for details, then threw the newspaper aside, his mind already working on how to break into the East-town jail.
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Post by Dante on Jul 5, 2006 6:47:35 GMT -5
Interesting start. I'd make a more original comment but you'd already told me about much of the setting and premise, so there isn't much new for me to talk about.
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Post by Libitina on Jul 5, 2006 11:46:47 GMT -5
Wow, I'm actually in a 667 story. Thanks, PJ! This seems interesting. I don't believe you're really innocent.
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Post by SF on Jul 5, 2006 11:59:56 GMT -5
Wow, I'm actually in a 667 story. Thanks, PJ! This seems interesting. I don't believe you're really innocent. What're you talking about? You were in mine! This looks pretty good, PJ. I was confused when you said it would be posted tonight and you posted it in the afternoon... which is undoubtedly nighttime for you.
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Post by samreen on Jul 5, 2006 13:55:18 GMT -5
This seems to be interesting, can't wait for the next part.
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Post by Linda Rhaldeen on Jul 5, 2006 14:22:26 GMT -5
Yep. Except I changed the ending. I couldn't kill off myself. I just couldn't. *shakes fist* This is great, though, PJ.
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Post by Alice Wilde on Jul 6, 2006 11:13:00 GMT -5
"Jon Steward"
I'm going to assume that your spell-check sucks and that was not your mistake. Otherwise, yay! You're writing and it's great.
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Post by deanna. on Jul 6, 2006 11:19:35 GMT -5
Splendid! I'm excited for the next part.
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Post by s on Jul 6, 2006 12:33:13 GMT -5
Nice start. Write more.
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Post by PJ on Jul 6, 2006 22:54:31 GMT -5
"Jon Steward" I'm going to assume that your spell-check sucks and that was not your mistake. Otherwise, yay! You're writing and it's great. Yeah, that WacKY spell-checker always pwns me somehow. And thanks, guys. Next bit should be up tonight. After that, I'm going skiing, so the chapter postings will be...erratic.
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Post by idiotj on Jul 7, 2006 0:44:19 GMT -5
<#
"Jay-Hole."
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