The Adventures of Stake-Out Detective Vol. 2

From the stake-out recordings of Phillip G. Brickbeef, private investigator:

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1:17 am, outside…I don’t know, about midway down Davenport, in front of an apartment building.

Just sitting here, watching this car burn in front of me, and boy, it is going, man…couple people are watching, but for the most part, we’re all just watching this car burn.  I don’t know if anybody’s bothered calling 911 or not.  I haven’t.  Just watching like anybody else.

I’m supposed to be watching the Pinehurst Motel, see if I can get snaps of Mrs. Jolene Yarbouro in the act.  Her husband things she’s seeing his brother.  I’m supposed to be there.

But…I don’t know, what the fuck?  I couldn’t even stop my own wife from fucking around.  Maybe that’s just what women do, who am I to pretend I should be making money off something that might just be their nature.  Maybe I’m a bit bitter about how it all ended, and I don’t particularly want to relive all of that via the soap opera of the goddamn Yarbouros right now.

So, I’m just sitting here.  I was driving along, and I saw this car burning, and I’m watching it.  If I was a poet, I might suggest there was something symbolic in that, in an old Detective Bureau washout sitting here, late at night, past his prime, past his bedtime, ignoring the tasks that pay his bills, watching a burning car.

But I’m not, so I’m just gonna sit here and try not to think.

If Mrs. Yarbouro is fucking her brother-in-law, she’ll be fucking him soon enough again, anyway.

So let’s just watch this fucker burn.

—click—

The Adventures of Stake-Out Detective

From the stake-out recordings of Phillip G. Brickbeef, private investigator:

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4:32 pm, corner of 23rd and Vermont.

Been sitting here staring at this crowd of girls for a long time.  I’d really like to know how old the one in the red dress is.  You know, just for my own personal interest.

Have seen no glimpse of Elmo Standish.  Starting to think the tip-off was bum.  Reminder: have a serious talk with Cadbury.

How old IS that girl?  Seriously.  I’m starting to think it’s creepy that I’ve been here staring at her through this camera for the last twenty minutes.  Don’t kids today have anything better to do than stand around in the middle of my stake-out?  Don’t they know that Elmo Standish is supposed to be around here somewhere?

She CAN’T be 18.  There’s no way.  I guess that settles it: I’m a pedophile.  I mean, I must be, right, because there she is, and if she’s a day over 15 I’m a Swedish chef, and I’m still staring at her.  I should probably check myself into therapy or something.

But seriously!  Look at that dress!  It’s like Standish pays girls of indeterminate age to stand out in front of the places he’s supposed to be in bright red dresses, just to make sure that private dicks on stake-out will be too distracted to—

Aww, crap!

CRAP CRAP CRAP!

I just ate the last Pringle!  This is gonna be REAL fun now.  GREAT.

Jesus.

I really need to take a leak.  Would it be weird if a guy in his forties, watching a group of possible underage girls through a camera, pissed into an empty Pringles can?  Imagine getting busted for that!  McSween would have a field day.  Still, call of nature and all that, right?

Hmm-hmm humm…

[Urination sounds echoing from a tin can.]

Just don’t look over here, and we’ll all enjoy this pleasant afternoon…

Shit!  There’s Standish!  Uh!  Fuck!

Gaaahhhhh!

Goddammit!

[Muffled female voices.]

Nothing!

[Muffled female voices.]

FUCK YOU, TRAMPS, I’M ON A STAKE-OUT HERE!

[Squealing tires.]

—click—

You Win, Fresh Market

I won’t be coming to your store for anything more complicated than a bag of chips and a Coke anymore, because:

  • You are too incompetent to keep even tofu on hand consistently.
  • You carry the crappy version of everything I need to buy.
  • You have stopped supplying carry baskets at the front door, meaning I need to grab  a cart every time I anticipate buying more than two handfuls of groceries.
  • Your deli sucks, your butcher shop sucks, and your bakery sucks.

So, at long last, I have decided, even though you have a cute, spunky Asian girl working for you, to stop patronizing your grocery store.  There is a Harmon’s just two more minutes’ drive from you, and even though it takes longer to get in and out of there, and even though their parking lot is a death trap of befuddled old people who don’t watch where they’re driving, I would rather risk those inconveniences than be disappointed by your low-rent bullshit every time I try to buy dinner.

Sincerely,

But that Asian girl is still pretty cute.

Missed Connection

You were a bisexual college girl named after a Jungle Book character.  I was a guy 20 years older than you living in another state.  Our social networks met across the Internet and we both felt something special.

Please contact me via any number of available electronic avenues so that we can explore something or other, or whatever.

Hope to hear from you soon!

The Moment I Excluded Myself

I was in first grade.  I had friends.  Friends who I would play with during recess.  One day, some kid invented a handball game, and soon all of the other kids were playing this handball game.  They invited me, but I had no interest in participating.  I wasn’t much of a sporting kid then, and I’m not a sporting man now.

So, I chose to sit out their super-popular game and spend time wandering around and reading.  I spent a lot of time in the school library.

You see, they all wanted to play this game, but I was content just running around and being weird and making shit up.  I didn’t realize it then, but that was the day that I chose a social clique that I’ve been in ever since.  That was the day that I decided I didn’t want to be a joiner.  Ironically, when I eventually transferred to another state, me and my friends there had a lot of fun playing a handball game we’d invented.  But I’d been in on the ground floor of that one, and contributed some rules, so that was okay.

Anyway, if you ever find yourself wondering, “Why doesn’t Kevin want to play any of our reindeer games?”, that’s the reason.  If I do ever post a Truthful Tuesday or a GPOY, you may notice that I’m usually mocking the very idea of it with my post.  That’s just the way I roll.

The “cool kids” aren’t going to decide the way I use this service, any more than they were going to decide how I spent my recess.

Now, back to follower-losing pics of shemales and comics that only amuse a choice few!