Maltese Pocket Watch

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a play by Godofbeer

Godofbeer: It was 9 am and I was already on my second drink. My last case was a rough one and I was still trying to forget it. As I finished the drink and reached for a cheap bottle of bourbon to refill it, my assistant walked in.

Nyrini: You have a client out here. Should I let her in or are you too busy wallowing?

Godofbeer: My assistant had a sharp tongue but she was attractive enough to get away with it. She was easy on the eyes, with legs that just wouldn’t quit attached to a body that defied the laws of physics. She was the kind of broad a guy could really go for, until she opened her mouth and gave him second thoughts.

Nyrini: You know I can hear you, right?

Godofbeer: She informed me of a problem with my inner dialogue. This sometimes happens when I’m drinking and not paying attention. It was a problem that could be easily fixed. I made a quick adjustment that should take care of it. Now my narrative should only be in my head.

Nyrini: Nope, I can still hear you.

Godofbeer: Just show the client in.

Nyrini: Alright.

Godofbeer: As my new client walked in, my eyes widened and I tried, with limited success, to keep myself from drooling all over the cheap table I pretended was a desk. One look and I could tell she was rotten to the core, but part of me didn’t care. The dame had legs that just wouldn’t quit attached to a body… no wait a minute. I already used that one. I need to come up with some new descriptive phrases.

Bellatrixie The Strange: Why are you talking like that?

Godofbeer: Sorry, having some difficulties with my inner monologue. That was supposed to be in my head. Just ignore it. What can I do for you?

Bellatrixie The Strange: I want to hire you to investigate my husband’s murder. Two days ago, my husband was murdered and his pocket watch was stolen. I want you to find that watch.

Godofbeer: I get it. If I find the watch, I find the killer.

Bellatrixie The Strange: No, the killer didn’t take the watch.

Godofbeer: How do you know that?

Bellatrixie The Strange: Because I am the killer.

Godofbeer: You killed your husband? Why?

Bellatrixie The Strange: I’m evil and he was in my way. But that’s not important right now. Find me that watch.

Godofbeer: Alright, but if I take the job, I do things my way. I charge 50 gold a day plus expenses. Those expenses may or may not include a manicure, I haven’t decided yet.

Bellatrixie The Strange: Money is not a problem. Just get the watch.

Godofbeer: After my manicure and a very relaxing massage, I had my assistant drive me over to the scene of the crime. I had finally gotten control of my thoughts and my inner monologue was once again in my head.

Nyrini: Nope, you’re still saying everything out loud.

Godofbeer: Damn! I thought I had it that time. I’ll have to keep working on it.

Nyrini: Yeah, yeah. Don't hurt yourself. Hey, how come I keep driving you everywhere?

Godofbeer: Because, dollface, cabs are expensive but mouthy assistants are cheap. Just drive.

Nyrini: Does that look like a green light to you? Stupid black&white setting... I feel like a dog driving a car.

Godofbeer: Anyway... We pulled up to the home of the recently deceased and his evil, murderous wife. I rang the bell and the door was answered by some old guy in a fancy suit.

Lord77: I am Jeeves, the butler, sir, not some old guy. How may I be of service to you?

Godofbeer: I’m Godofbeer Spade, private eye. I’ve been hired to look into the mysterious death of your employer.

Lord77: There is no mystery there, sir. He was killed by his wife, everyone knows that. She is quite evil, sir.

Godofbeer: Yeah, well there’s still a few things that need investigating. Gather everyone who was here at the time of the murder and I’ll meet with them in one of those really big rooms with lots of convenient seating that I’m sure you have here.

Lord77: Certainly, sir. I have, in fact, already taken the liberty of doing that. If you would follow me, sir, I will take you there.

Godofbeer: As we entered the room, I took a look at the suspects I would be dealing with. They were a suspicious looking bunch, that much was sure. Some of them were dressed in silly costumes. One of them was even dressed up like a maid.

The Almighty Anne: But I AM ze maid, monsieur. Zis is not ze costume, it is ze uniform.

Lord77: Perhaps I should introduce everyone, sir. I believe it may keep you from insulting the rest of the group.

Nyrini: Don’t count on it.

Lord77: This is Fifi, our master’s personal maid. Next to her is the chauffeur, James, and the gardener, Sam. Over on the settee is the master’s brother, Charles, and Inga, the cook. Standing behind them, sir, is… dammit! This is stupid! I hate talking like this.

The Almighty Anne: Tell me about it. He made me a French maid. Do I look like a French maid to you?

Godofbeer: What? It’s a play. You just have to pretend. I thought you’d like it.

The Almighty Anne: Like it? You named me Fifi. That is the least original name I have ever heard. And that terrible, stereotypical accent is just a horrible idea.

Lord77: How about Jeeves, the butler. Not exactly thinking outside the box on that one, was he?

Jimbob64: I don’t know what the rest of you are complaining about. He didn’t even give me any lines. I’m just supposed to sit here and look smug, whatever that means.

Godofbeer: Look, I was asked to write this and I did. I thought you would all enjoy being a part of it.

Azzageddi: Why am I playing Inga, anyway? Seriously, is it a mystery or a comedy? I can’t figure it out.

Nyrini: I’m not sure what it was, but it’s a complete train wreck now.

Godofbeer: It was supposed to be a suspenseful mystery with comedic moments. Now we’re running out of time. I’m gonna have to cut out some of this so we can finish. We’re gonna have to lose the big uncle, cousin, daughter plot twist.

Doctor Frank-n-furter: But that was my part!

Godofbeer: We don’t have time. Let’s see, the alien super crickets are out. There’s no way we can fit in the musical extravaganza, so someone send the showgirls and the orchestra home. Maybe we can still do the chase scene… no. Without the super crickets it won’t make any sense. I think I’m just gonna have to skip to the final scene.

Azzageddi: But I didn’t get to say my line! I’ve been practicing it all week! It’s my only line! Wait, let me just say it: “Ya, I tink it vas de--”

Godofbeer: No time! Quiet everyone!

Azzageddi pouts in his blond pigtails.

Bellatrixie The Strange: Yes, you’re right. It was me all along. What gave me away?

Godofbeer: The super crickets showing up was just far too convenient. I knew then that you had the watch from the beginning and had suckered me into this to keep everyone else confused. You outsmarted yourself, sweetheart, and now you’ll do time. Take her away, officer.

Sniper404: All right, miss. Come along.

Godofbeer: I watched them haul her off to her fate and then headed home. It had been a long day and I had a date with a bottle of bourbon.

The Almighty Anne rushes back onto the stage, dragging Agnes Nitt and a string of showgirls.

The Almighty Anne: No no no! Zis is not ze end! I ‘ave not ‘ad ze chance to sing my leetle song!

The Almighty Anne: Zere. Now we ‘ave finished.