The ransom note, if it could be defined as such, arrived via singing telegram, which was an odd way to inform someone that their husband would soon start losing body parts if the ransom was not paid in full and delivered to the assigned location under the specified circumstances. We grilled the delivery boy/singer who described the man who had paid him for verbalizing the delightful ditty. He said the man who had approached him to deliver the telegram was seven and a half feet tall and had a rather nasty looking scar running straight down the center of his face, as if the brute had been split in half like so much kindling. His also described the man's skull as being somewhat "conical" in shape and said that his teeth seemed to be made of picket fence posts.Though the young man was more than willing to cooperate, and indeed had already supplied us with all the information that he could possibly provide, I insisted that we strong arm the little bastard. I wanted to beat the shit out of someone and I figured the delivery boy was as good as anybody for me to pulverize.
To justify the beating, I demanded answers to nonsensical questions that had nothing to do with the kidnapping of the millionaire Reginald Farnsworth, but still seemed as if they had some validity. "Where's Cavaletti hiding the girls?!" I growled, pounding the delivery boy in the ribs like a punching bag. "What is the true identity of the man who calls himself The Scorpion?" I roared, swinging a round house kick across the young man's face. Ribs cracked and teeth flew. Blood splattered the walls of safe house. Soon Mrs. Farnsworth joined in, beating the young man's face into hamburger and then biting his nose off. She howled like a wolf, spitting blood. In a blood-thirsty frenzy everyone went wild, devouring the young man like a school of piranha fish, leaving nothing but a pile of bloody bones.
By the time Detective Jiggers arrived at the safe house to take a formal statement from the delivery boy, Mrs. Farnsworth, Officers O'Malley and Kelly and myself were all picking our teeth with the young man's bones, our blood lust now satisfied. Jiggers was horrified. "Couldn't you have waited to eat the little bastard until after I got his statement? I'm hungry too you know! You didn't have to be so selfish!". Jiggers then started to sob. "I bet he was really tasty too! You guys are all a bunch of fuckers! Just a bunch of selfish fuckers and you all have sexual intercourse with barnyard animals! I didn't even get to hear him sing the ransom song! Goddamn you all to Hell!"
There was no consoling, Detective Jiggers. Mrs. Farnsworth even removed her bra and wagged her bosoms in his face, but to no avail. Still he continued to cry. "You're an asshole, Dalton!" he spat through his tears.
I seized a few oranges from a bowl on the kitchen table and started to juggle them. Slowly Jiggers seemed to come out of his funk, dazzled by the colorful, airborne fruit. He laughed and clapped his hands together and exclaimed "Pretty fruit! Pretty orange fruit!"
"That's right, Jiggers" I said, "It flies through the air just like magic!"
Jiggers rocked back and forth, clapping his hands and giggling like an infant. "Pretty orange fruit flies like magic!" he chuckled.
The End
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