fett on 1/2/2005 at 05:39

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Chapter 16 – Awedude – 9:05pm

This is Awedude, an overrun surfer district West of the river. Surfers hang out in the park, or visit the dilapidated Museum during low tide. Every thief in town knows that even though it looks ritzy, you can’t break into a single building –the doors are all wielded shut. It doesn’t matter – I’ve got other things on my mind. Like the increasing itchiness of this rash I got from carrying moss arrows inside my pants. Where in the hell did my cloak go? Not only does it suck that the Hammers, Pagans, City Watch, Keepers, and My Publishers are all trying to kill me, now I’ve got some overweight, leisure suit wearing weirdo after me as well. I’ve come to Awedude to find Inspector O’Reiley – he’s ace with conspiracy theories and wild accusations, and he’s been obsessed with this pants-stealing, side-burned singer, and I’m sure there’s a connection. I hope he has a lead for me, because if he doesn’t, my life is going to get even more boring than it’s been the last few days.

“We’re lucky to have him. With Inspector O’Reiley taking offices so close, it should keep all the pagans away from here, ya know dude?”

“Ya, fer sure. But it seems like there’s just as many pagans here as usual. Wilson says there’s a bunch of ‘em totally like living in the park. I can’t even find like a bench to sleep on anymore. Total bummer man!”

Two surfers stood just inside the gate. Garrett would have called them ‘sun-bleached’ except that there was never sun in the City. Only rain, and dark, ominous, dark, rainy, dark, overcast darkness.

“Maybe they’re not pagans dude…maybe they’re like, totally hot chicks or something ya know?!”

“Yah…maybe. We should go and like, totally hit on them and stuff.”

“No way man. After we stop talking, I think we should keep standing here and like, look at each other and stuff dude."

“Oh yah. Totally good idea man.”

Yeah, like totally get out of the way before I put an arrow through your eyeball, like, ya know? Garrett rolled his eyes. Surfers…bleh…I’m starting to miss the zombies …

The Wieldstrom Museum loomed over a courtyard by the small canal running through this part of town. It had once been the pride of the City, but funding had lapsed as of late and the displays were…not quite the crowd pleasers they used to be. Still, there was a couple milling around the front doors. Maybe they were planning on sleeping there.

“So here’s the deal man…these two guys that broke in, like, they totally died dude.”

“Yeah, but they weren’t smart. Like us. We’re smarterer than them.”

“Oh totally…but I hear their mom was the one who came up with the plan dude.”

“Their mom? What kind of wussies rob the museum and get help from their mom?”

“I dunno, but there’s some kind of like, alarm, or maybe some like, alarm bells, or maybe some like uh…alarms…ya know. And then something killed them.”

“No way!”

“Way!”

“Wow dude. That’s intense.”

“So we’re gonna break in right? We’re gonna use the tunnel right?”

“We gotta do something dude…it’ll be easier crashing in there than trying to fight those pagans for a bench in the park.”

“Totally.”

He’d almost walked the length and breadth of the whole district looking for O’Reliey’s offices, passing Thief-Mart outside the park and the Watchman standing guard just outside.

Nearby, he found O’Reliey standing in the street.

“There’s nothing to steal here thief.”

“Uh…yeah,” said Garrett, “I can see that. We’re standing in the middle of the street. You got an office somewhere so we could talk in private?” Garrett was keeping a close eye on the watchman.

“This is my office,” he motioned with a sweeping gesture.

“Right…um…here? In the street?”

“Well…it wasn’t meant to be in the street. I believe my office is in that building there,” he pointed behind Garrett, "but apparently the builders were in such a rush, they forgot to put a door on the place.” The Inspector shrugged, “so here I am. Not a bad part of town though.”

“No. Not unless you’re worried about Jimmy the Knife, the idiots trying to rob the museum, the insane cult group hanging out in the park, or the fat singing guy who goes around stealing people’s pants. Excuse me,” he turned and violently stabbed to death the watchman who had finally sobered up enough to recognize him and attempt a takedown. “Not a bad part of town at all.”

“Speaking of the fat singing guy who steals pants, have you seen him?” O’Reiley brightened considerably.

“Not just seen him. He tried to kill me. He brought all of these statues to life and now that I think about it, they were coming after me singing these horrible love songs with ‘do-wops’ and ‘sho-be-do’s’ in the chorus,” Garrett shuddered.

“Yeah, I have followed his trail, but it has not been clear. Many claim to have seen him in many places, but I had almost thought to write it off to all the dead brain cells from my partying days…” he drifted off for a moment, one eye twitched, then he came back to earth, “Twas in my boyhood, at the orphanage known as the Shalebridge Crib that I spied him. I was hidden, smoking an enormous hooter. My friend was trying to find me – it was then that the old man came from the darkness. He looked a bit like the grim reaper at first, but then as I cleared away the smoke surrounding my hiding place, I was able to see what had once been a good looking man, but the victim of too many doughnuts if you know what I mean. He had a hideous beer belly, and wore a baby blue leisure suit with a huge collar. Rhinestones traced the edges of the suit,” O’ Reiley’s voice took on a haunted sound and began to tremble, “then….then he started shaking his pelvis and singing, ‘she-bop-a-loo-bop, she’s my baby…she-bop-a-loo-bop, I don’t mean maybe…’ The next thing I knew, my friends pants had disappeared. And with them, the old man. I was a teenager and afraid, not to mention a bit stoned…”

“So where is this old man now?”

“I have sought him for many years. Some say he was abducted by UFO’s but I believe them not. The old man wears capes and platform shoes, and seeks his victims in Awedude now. Sometimes, their pants disappear, other times, he even takes their socks! They always tell the story of the old man. But it was in the Crib that his pants thieving began. You should begin there. It is the only place I’ve seen him for certain, but I dare not return.”

“Why not?” all this pants talk was making Garrett a little uncomfortable.

“Because it’s old, and scary, it’s kept by the dead, and the dead keep it or some such.”

“But if you’ve spent your whole life looking for him, why don’t you just suck it up and go?”

“Well, I was hoping someone would come along and offer to do it – like you.”

“But you know the layout of the place right? You lived there. I don’t get it.”

“I just can’t go, OK? YOU have to do it. It is the only way.”

“The only way for what?” Garrett asked skeptically.

“For us to get to the bottom of these pants thefts! To feel safe in our own City again! To make this story last a bit longer! So many reasons!”

“Alright, calm down – I’ll go. You got a map or something?”

“Er…no. But I’m sure you could find one in the rafters near Ramen’s place in Old Quarter.”

“Why there? You’re the one obsessed with the old man and the Crib- why don’t you have a map?”

“I just don’t,” he shrugged. “What’s wrong? Don’t you like traveling through the different districts of the City?”

“Actually no,” said Garrett, “I find it time consuming, monotonous and quite frankly, annoying.”

“Well, I can’t disagree with you there,” the Inspector nodded.

They were quiet for a moment.

“Well, I guess it’s off to Old Quarter, then to the Crib. I don’t want to be the next in his string of pants thefts. I’ve already had a bunch of cloaks stolen and I feel naked as it is.”

“Be warned Garrett,” said O’Reiley darkly, “The Crib is scary. Scarier than any place you’ve ever been. Scarier than any place anybody's ever been. I'm talking really, really scary. In fact, I imagine your trip to the Crib will make up for all the crappy stuff you’ve had to do in the last few days.”

“I doubt that,” replied Garrett, “But I have heard rumors. Not to worry,” he patted his belt, “I’m sure it’s nothing a few gas bombs can’t handle.”

Old Man on 1/2/2005 at 16:53

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Boy do my eyes widen when I see you've posted some more, fett. Terrific!

Well, except for one thing.

Pitch on 1/2/2005 at 20:51

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:thumb:
And now finally for the Crad.. err Crib :eek:

Holywhippet on 1/2/2005 at 23:58

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While I really shouldn't nitpick:


Surely Garrett knows that gas bombs won't do anything against the undead.

Old Man on 2/2/2005 at 18:44

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Hehe. No, fett. I'm referring to the liberal sprinklings of 'old man.' ;-)

Well, it was obvious to me.