After another hard evening of attempting to catch devious serial killer Pete the Pot Head (so-called because he leaves a potted plant on the head of his victims), hard-boiled detective Jack Jackson is drowning his sorrows in his favourite watering hole, ‘The Quiet Exposition.’ But before he can down his fifteenth shot of whiskey coloured water he is interrupted with the devastatingly predictable news that Pete the Pot Head had struck again. This time it is personal, for the victim is none other than Jack’s ex Girlfriend, or something. This had really upped the ante. Pete was already playing mind games with the suspiciously handsome detective, but he had potted the wrong person this time, and it was time for Jack Jackson to play dirty to get results.
Leaving just enough time for a flashback of some scene in a play park or something, Jack quickly downs his whiskey coloured water, leaving just enough time to stare mournfully in shadow before putting on his 1980’s flowing Mac coat, tossing some dimes at a fat bartender left over from old Bogart movies, and strolling nonchalantly out of the door, cigarette dangling cooly from his lips, even though smoking indoors has been illegal for well over a decade now.
Arriving at the murder scene in his beat down car, Jack stoops low under the yellow tape to see for himself the results of Pete the Pot Head's latest, dastardly crime. Oh, it’s raining, and it’s dark, and the crime scene is in an alley, or something like that.
“So what’s the score,” asks Jack, lighting another cigarette and sprinkling it over the crime scene as he does so.
“You might not want to see this Jack,” replies Inspector Moustachio, “It’s Sally, and she has a pot in every orifice of her body, it’s not a pretty sight, the sick bastard.”
After a close-up of the poor be-potted victim, Jack screams to the heavens, clenched fists raised to the sky, “That’s it Pete, you think you can play me for a fool? I’m going to get you Pete. I’m going to get you if it’s the last thing that I….”
But before Jack can finish his sentence a bored looking cop who normally spends his time giving people tickets for not wearing their seatbelts and for having expired tax disks stops him in his tracks with breaking news about the case.
“Errr Jack. We caught Pete. He’s at the station right now. His name is Malcolm McSpannerheadz and he’s confessed to it all. We checked the CCTV tapes, used the licence plate recognition software on the roads, and then checked his cell-phone. DNA testing should confirm it was him, but he confessed immediately when we told him we were sending his clothes to the lab, although he did look a bit surprised that we caught him so easily.”
A shocked looking Jack knows that the criminal mastermind cannot be caught so easily. This must be a ruse, right?
But no, it wasn’t a ruse. Malcolm Mcspannerheadz, a television obsessed website designer in his early thirties was duly tried and convicted two months later, after DNA evidence, phone evidence and CCTV evidence connected him to every murder. Plus a quick check of his computer showed he had an unhealthy interest in pot plants.
Jack Jackson knew that this was only the beginning of the story though. The day after Pete was caught another serial killer was on the loose. This time he went by the name of, ‘Sid the Stroker.’ This devious madman would brutally slay his victims in their homes before stroking their pet cats with his bloody fingers, thus traumatising them for life. Jack knew that this would be a difficult case to crack, and so he went to the bar to drink more Whiskey coloured water, whilst another bored traffic cop checked through the CCTV footage, again.
No comments:
Post a Comment