so I did the thing again. You know the thing. The thing where you start writing something light and fluffy and silly to take your mind off the Big Serious Things you're procrastinating on writing, and then you accidentally a plot point which vastly expands the scope of the thing but you like too much to take out, and then you become intimidated by the scope of the thing and stop writing.
that is a foolish thing, so I'm just going to post this and have done with it. You lot can pick up this thread if you like.
Anyway. much spies. very stalungrad. wow.
Once upon a time there was a police detective with a craggy jaw and glint in his eye and one of those forehead divots, you know, like he’s permanently scowling, because he means business.
“Detective Talbot,” he said, out of the left corner of his mouth, which was the only corner he spoke out of. “Serious Crime Branch.”
“Ah,” said Alan the Superintelligent Marmot. “Then we're in the wrong place! We urgently need to speak to Detective Turbot from the Silly Crime Branch. I apologise for wasting your time, sir.”
“Next door. Now get out of my office,” growled Detective Talbot, but Alan did not take offense, because he had deduced that this was how Detective Talbot farewelled everyone.
Alan collected Robospy from where ey had been flirting with the vending machine and went next door to the Silly Crime Branch.
“Detective Turbot?” said Alan, peering into the room.
“Duck!” yelled Detective Turbot. Alan did not duck, because he was a superintelligent marmot and thus knew that his head was already below the trajectory of the slice of cheesecake rapidly heading in his direction. Robospy did not duck because ey had deduced that Alan was the straight man, or in this case marmot, in their crime-fighting duo, and Robospy was trying to get into the spirit of things, so instead ey looked around and said “Where?” and the cheesecake hit em in the roboface.
“Terribly sorry,” said Detective Turbot. “Rosie, get that robot a moist towelette.”
A young lady with a blonde ponytail came over and dabbed at Robospy, chewing some bubblegum as she did so. Detective Turbot gestured at the source of the cheesecake. “We recently confiscated this device from a juvenile delinquent,” she said. “We were trying to figure out what it does.”
“It appears to be a jury-rigged home security tool made out of a fork, legos and several rubber bands,” said Alan.
“Repeat offender, unfortunately,” said Detective Turbot, shaking her head. “As is so often the case. I shan’t tell you the gory details of the thing with the marbles and the paint tin.”
“Please don’t,” said Alan. “We have urgent business!”
“Step into my office,” said Detective Turbot. “Oh dear, our admin assistant appears to have gotten bubblegum all over your colleague.”
“Does anyone have any Windex?” asked Robospy. “No, that’s shaving cream,” ey added to a curly-haired young man in a police uniform with the tags still on who’d been about to helpfully spray em.
“I see your new lad’s settling in nicely,” commented Alan.
“Yes, he learns fast,” said Detective Turbot. “We’d better let them get on with it. What did you want to see me about?”
“Well,” said Alan. “In the course of the Case of the Indifferent Redhead, Robospy and I have uncovered something… silly.”
“What is it?” asked Detective Turbot.
“Come and see,” said Alan the Superintelligent Marmot.
*
There was something silly in the desk of the Minister for Education. There was something silly underneath the false bottom of the Minister’s desk drawer. Alan stood watch while Robospy carefully lifted the false bottom with eir suction attachments and showed Detective Turbot something very, very silly.
Underneath the false bottom of the Education Minister’s desk drawer was another false bottom.
“I don’t understand,” said Detective Turbot, poking it in one rosy cheek with her gloved finger. It was sort of rubbery.
“Lift it up,” said Robospy.
Detective Turbot peered underneath the false bottom that had been underneath the false bottom of the Minister for Education’s desk drawer and recoiled in horror.
Underneath the false bottom underneath the false bottom was a red nose.
*
Detective Turbot drove back to the Silly Crime Branch in a stony silence.
“I’m sorry,” said Alan, finally. “I thought you ought to know.”
“Imps of Hell,” Detective Turbot said stiffly, “Are not my division.”
“But…” said Robospy. “If the Minister for Education is in league with them…”
“Why on earth did you break into the Minister’s office in the first place?” snapped Detective Turbot.
“It’s a long story involving blackmail, perjury, test scores, an ice-cream truck and an indifferent redhead,” said Alan.
“Well, I’m not having any of it,” said Detective Turbot. “One thing my mother taught me – never. Get. Involved. With clowns. Or politics.”
“That’s technically two things,” said Robospy.
“Also, I couldn’t help but notice a young man in white facepaint sitting in the back of your branch office,” added Alan.
Detective Turbot gritted her teeth. “Officer Marcel is of the Mimish persuasion, yes. Diversity hire. That’s not the same thing as clowns, though.”
“But do you think he may have some light to shed on the situation?” asked Alan.
Detective Turbot sighed. “Fine. I’ll assign Marcel as your liaison. If this gets political or, or theological on me, I’ll find a creative use for that cheesecake fork.”
*
Officer Marcel listened gravely to the silly revelation about the Minister for Education. Then he held up two fingers.
Detective Turbot sighed. “I’ll leave you to it,” she said. “Remember…”
“Politics, theology, cheesecake,” said Robospy solemnly.
“Right,” said Detective Turbot, and retreated to her office with a bottle of bourbon and a folder full of humorous vandalism to categorise.
Meanwhile, Marcel had held up one finger and was now furiously gesturing at Alan.
“Getting anything?” asked Robospy.
“Elementary, my dear robot,” said Alan the Superintelligent Marmot. “This one is, er…Australia?”
Marcel shook his head.
“Bubblegum? No, no… whales? Wales? Dragons?”
Marcel rolled his eyes, glanced over his shoulder and then pulled a notepad out of his pocket.
“Oh,” said Robospy. “That’s sort of cheating, isn’t it?”
Marcel shrugged and wrote on the notepad: “I’M NOT VERY DEVOUT.”
Then, glancing around again and shielding the notepad with his other hand, he wrote: “SHAME FARMING.”
“Sh-“ said Alan, but Marcel leaned forward and stuffed the piece of paper into his mouth. Then he made chewing motions. Alan grimaced, but obediently chewed and swallowed the paper.
“Eurgh,” he said.
“Oh dear,” said Robospy. “I’m afraid this is going to get political and theological.”
