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The Streaker Files - by me and my friend, Rich

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Joined: 10 Aug 2004
Posts: 6381
Location: Michigan
The Streaker Files - by me and my friend, Rich  Reply with quote  

The wind howled through the trees and Diego swore he could hear angels in its song. Of course, Diego was wrong. Something out there knew he was wrong and unfortunately for Diego, that something was about to show him. Oh, and there was a streaker nearby too; Bob.

Bob Champion was a mad recluse, a hardball tramp. stocky, yet structurally interesting. Diego couldn't worry about him now, he had the wind to deal with. The wind and those damn angels singing.

The wind seemed to get...closer? Yes, it was definitely closer in Diego’s opinion. It whipped around him in angry bursts like a lion pacing a cage, checking out the human prey on the other side of the cage walls. Diego felt a scratch on his arm. Then another on his chest. He started to run but the scratches got deeper, longer, faster. The more he ran the worse it got until his whole body was burning with pain.

Bob could hear the wind blowing in the trees. Bob could hear the rain falling. And Bob could hear the blood curdling screams. And then it stopped. It all stopped. Except the rain, that would just be weird.

They found Diego's body (or what was left of it) scattered around the trees. Special Agent Johnny Bamboo was the first at the scene. It looked like homicide, smelt like feeding hour at the local zoo, and felt like a whole lot of paperwork. Apparently there was a witness. Bamboo didn't care for witnesses. They were always staring at things.

“What’s this guys name?” asked Bamboo of his atypical sidekick, Amos Faloozala.
“Diego Fugnura, sir.”
“No, you imbecile, the witness guy. The naked guy. The man stood over there hugging that tree?”
“Champion, Robert Alphonso Champion. We found ID on him, you don’t even want to know where.”
“No, I don’t.”
“His ass, sir, it was up his ass.”
“Godammit, Floozy! I said no yer dirty little scumbag.”
“And I think he’s humping the…” Faloozala continued.
“Jesus, man. What the hell is wrong with you?” interrupted Bamboo , “Just get him over here.”

Faloozala jogged over to Bob.

“And find him some goddamn clothes!” Bamboo shouted after him.

After four minutes of gruelling interrogation, Bob turned out to be an undercover officer infiltrating a gang of naked wierd people. He was a dead end. There were so many pieces of the puzzle. The mutilated body, the wind, the corner piece. Johnny Bamboo needed some answers, and he needed them quick.

Then Bamboo realised, what if Champion, Bob Champion, Robert Champion, Robert Alphonso Champion, Alphonso, The Fonz, Champman, Champ boy, was lying. He’d have to bear that in mind. Maybe he could drag him in later, afterall, being cop doesn’t make you innocent. Oh, the times Bamboo wished it had…but then he became Special Agent Bamboo and suddenly he was. Bring on the hookers. Now was not the time or the place. Well, actually it was. It was night and he was on the edge of the red light district, but that’s beside the point…Vice Point.

Bamboo had no leads. Then he looked at his feet. There under his left toe (Bamboo had forgotten his shoes again) were two off-white shards of what seemed like ceramic. He bent down to take a look. They were teeth. Tiny teeth. They were in his toe. There was blood. Then there was nothing.

Then it all became clear. Given enough velocity these teeth could have cut a man to shreds in a cyclone. That was how the killer got Diego. But what was his MO? Why had he forgotten his shoes again? Mysteriouser and mysteriouserer, as so many mysteries of suspense are.

But wait, how did he know the killer was man? How did he know he had forgotten his shoes? He looked down at his feet. The killer. It was him. He knew it was him. But how? Why? He realised he had a custom high-powered vacuum cleaner in his right hand and a bag of teeth. It had always been him. Floozy was more stupid than he thought.

Then he realised. Floozy was his vacuum cleaner. Bob was a meer neuro-interactive projection of himself. Was anybody real anymore? He found comfort in chewing on his bag of teeth.

And then he woke up; Johnny Bamboo, porn star. It was all a dream.
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