The Detective and The Jock – Part ISeptember 6, 2014
The Detective and The Jock
He stood outside the residence for an hour or so before going in. The house itself cried out for salvation with its purple shudders and green tic-tac-toe patterns painted “artfully” onto them. But, it wasn’t the house he was there to save. The great detective who received numerous accolades from clients and law enforcement alike over several years had a special case beyond those walls. It was to be something even he had never encountered before. No matter though, nothing was beyond his intellectual capacity, he would tell you. That is, if he even deemed you worthy enough to speak to.
“Well, what do we have here?” the detective asked peering over his horn-rimmed glasses when he strolled into the living room through the screen door startling a young man of about 30 sitting in his recliner. His voice oozed with pretention and perfect articulation as he studied the man’s belly resting over his jeans. With every rise and fall, he formed a new opinion of the slovenly individual. The pitiable guy didn’t know how to react, and remained stoic until the dick, short for detective mind you, there is no need to be profane in this piece, stood between him and his television set.
“Can I help you?” he asked the boorish man who kept looking at him like a bullfrog to be dissected.
“Forgive me, but in your state, there’s little to nothing you can do for me.”
Trying to mask the contempt for the detective’s actions he witnessed from the porch, a man in athletic gear entered the apartment through the screen door. “You about finished?” he asked the gumshoe.
“Finished? I beg your pardon. I’ve only begun my investigation,” the sleuth scoffed looking over at the poor sap that was slinking lower into the recliner, his eyes pleading the jock for help.
“The lady of the house called me this morning, and thought that this was a two person job. So, I’m here to offer my services.”
“And, what exactly do you do?”
“I’m not here for an interview, I’m here to aid our client.” With this pronouncement, the disheveled man breathed his first sigh of relief since either of the strangers entered his home. Though he did not know the business upon which brought them there, he already trusted the jock as much as he loathed the dick.
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