Deadpan Detectives
Author:
Organizational:
Audience Rating:
Taxonomy upgrade extras:
I guess I'm to blame for this having started it all with the one about the zombies. :) Others have decided to share my guilt, so enjoy if you dare. This is just a post to link all the Deadpan Detective stories together, for those who haven't got their recommended daily allowance of puns. :)
Deadpan Detectives: The Pattern
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
TG Elements:
Permission:
This started because of comments in Aechel's blog. :)
The Pattern
by Erin Halfelven
"This is the fifth dead guy like this we've found this month, Joe."
"Whaddaya mean, 'like this'? You mean wearing a dress and with his genitals chewed off?"
"Well, yeah."
"Okay, Frank, I thought you might have meant in the ladies' john at the bus station."
"No, no, remember? The first one was in the backseat of the '59 T-Bird on Lover's Lane?"
"Yeah."
"And the second was in the cabana next to that penthouse pool?"
"Yeah."
"And three and four were together in the women's changing room at Macy's?'
"Yeah, I know that. It's beginning to look like a pattern."
"How do you figure that, Joe?"
"Well, except for being dead, mutilated males, they all look pretty good, don't they?"
"Uh, if you say so?"
"I mean, it's not just dresses but also makeup, jewelry, wigs, the whole she-bang?"
"Heh."
"What's funny?"
"You said, 'she-bang' and they were all dressed as women."
"Oh, well, yeah. That's not funny. You're sick, Frank."
"No, it's just you said 'she-bang'..."
"I know what I said. You shouldn't laugh at these guys though. It's not funny, they're dead and somebody..."
"Chewed them."
"Yeah."
"It's a pattern all right, Joe."
"A sick pattern. A weird pattern. 'Cause even though these girls all bled to death, the coroner says they didn't die where we found them..."
"Guys."
"What?"
"They were all guys, Joe."
"Yeah, I know that. But I'm talking about the pattern. They bled to death, but where's the blood? And the coroner says they had been dead for hours when found and we've got reports of some of them walking around just minutes before they were found."
"A goofy pattern."
"Three and four, they're dead and they're seen picking out clothes to go try on in the dressing room?"
"A spooky pattern."
"Or swimming around in a Maillot?"
"What's a Maillot?"
"A one-piece women's swimsuit like Miss America wears."
"Huh?"
"The pool boy said Two was wearing one when she went into the cabana to change clothes."
"Yeesh."
"Nice legs, he said. A little pale."
"A little pale? These guys didn't have enough blood between them for a healthy turnip, Joe."
"Yeah, I know. But they were seen walking around."
"Walking 'round in women's underwear."
"What do you mean? They were wearing women's underwear, yeah, but why did you say that, Frank?"
"It's a song I heard once. But number one didn't have underwear on."
"You listen to some weird music. But yeah, the hitchhiker wasn't wearing panties."
"Guy stops for a pretty girl..."
"He said she had nice legs, too."
"She's showing some leg, so he stops, and she gets in..."
"She doesn't say anything but she gets in the backseat and lays down."
"He figures she's drunk, I guess? That's what he said, isn't it, Joe?"
"Yeah, figures she's drunk so he drives into town. Stops at Lover's Lane since she didn't say where to take her."
"Finds out she's dead when he tries to get in the back seat with her."
"So he runs off and some beat cop finds the stiff later."
"Heh."
"What's funny, Frank?"
"You said 'stiff', but this corpse ain't got no stiff. His wiener and beans been eaten off."
"Chewed off."
"Yeah."
"Like by an animal?"
"Yeah."
"No one said anything about eating beans and wieners."
"Yeah, well, you figure something chews off some meat like that, they ain't going to eat it?"
"That's sick."
"Yeah."
"And it's not funny. You shouldn't laugh about something like that, Frank."
"I wasn't laughing about that part, Joe."
"None of it is funny, Frank. It's a sick, weird, goofy, spooky pattern and none of it is funny."
"A creepy pattern."
"Yeah."
"It's just you said 'stiff' and I thought that was a little funny, Joe."
"Well, it wasn't funny at all, Frank."
"Sorry. But it is a pattern."
"These pretty girls who all turn out to be dead guys is a pattern all right."
"What'd we do with the guy who owned the T-Bird?"
"Had to let him go when Three and Four turned up. We let him go but the county hospital still has him locked up."
"He still screaming?"
"When the drugs wear off, yeah."
"Too bad. I liked him for the hitchhiker."
"Yeah."
"I thought we could make a case."
"Yeah. But he couldn't have done the others from the loony lock-up."
"No. It's a pattern now and he doesn't fit anymore."
"Yeah."
"That's why I thought you saying 'stiff' was funny, Joe."
"How could that be funny?"
"See, usually, a guy dresses up as a woman, it's because it gives him a stiff one. That's the usual pattern. But these guys can't get stiff 'cause they aint got one."
"It's still not funny."
"Sorry, Joe."
"And it isn't always true. Guys don't dress as girls just to get hard, some guys have other reasons."
"Yeah? Like what?"
"Like maybe it just makes them relaxed. They dress that way because it makes them feel good. Not sexual, just...happy. Or maybe they're transsexuals, they dress like women because they think they are women."
"Yeah? Still sounds kinky to me, Joe."
"It's a sick, weird, goofy, spooky, creepy, kinky pattern, Frank. But it isn't funny."
"Okay, Joe. I promise not to laugh."
"Then quit grinning."
"I can't. Why do you keep looking at those pictures, Joe?"
"They're evidence."
"Those are just head shots. You can't tell they're dead men; they just look like pale, pretty girls with their eyes closed."
"Yeah."
"Except the one, her wig is crooked."
"No, it's not. It's just an assymetric hairstyle."
"Looks like her wig is crooked."
"It isn't, though. This one wasn't wearing a wig."
"That's her hair? Heh."
"What are you laughing about now?"
"I was just thinking, she breaks the pattern. All the rest wore wigs. Then I thought, maybe they all had pattern baldness."
"That's not funny."
"Heh."
"You're never serious, Frank. This is a serious case, people are dead."
"Heh. Now, I'm laughing 'cause you don't think it's funny, Joe."
"You're perverse."
"I'm perverse? You're the one with a set of 8 x 10 glossies of the heads of dead women who turned out to be men who died from oral castration. Now that's perverted. Heh."
"They're evidence, Frank."
"Evidence you're perverted, Joe."
"I didn't say perverted, I said perverse."
"What's the difference?"
"There is a difference."
"Not a hell of a lot of difference, Joe."
"Okay, Frank, let's just drop it."
"Okay. Sorry, Joe."
"Let's think about the pattern, see if we can figure something out."
"You mean the perverse, sick, weird, goofy, spooky, creepy, kinky, perverted pattern?"
"That one, yes."
"They're all dead."
"Yes. They are all dead men who were dressed as women."
"No blood. Bite marks where the chorizo y huevos should be."
"What? What did you say?"
"Chorizo and huevos. Sausage and eggs, it's a Mexican breakfast. Heh."
"That's sick. And you're laughing, again."
"Sorry. You should have seen your face. Heh."
"Stop it, Frank."
"Okay. Sorry."
"They were all dead men who looked like pretty women."
"Yeah."
"And they were all seen walking around when they must have already been dead."
"All of them? This last one, too?"
"Yes. The ticket clerk says he saw her come into the bus station and go into the ladies' room."
"He was watching her?"
"Must have been."
"Did he say she had nice legs?"
"He didn't say, but that might have been why he was looking."
"Heh."
"You're laughing again, Frank."
"I was just thinking, who would expect the walking dead to be wearing high heels?"
"That's not funny."
"Heh. Heh."
"Stop laughing, Frank."
"Heh. Now I'm laughing 'cause you look so constipated, Joe."
"It's not funny, Frank."
"Sure it is. I've got the most constipated partner in the history of detection."
"Stop laughing, Frank."
"I just thought of something else, Joe. We should put out a dragnet for whoever is killing these queens. Get it? Heh."
"Not funny, Frank."
"Sure it is. It's hilarious that you never even crack a smile. You need a drink or at least some strong laxative."
"You're unprofessional, Frank. If you're going to laugh, at least turn off the TV cameras."
"TV cameras? I forgot about them! Oh, no! Heh! TV cameras, get it, Joe? You should show them your Freudian slip! Heh!"
"Turn them off, Frank."
"Okay, Joe."
Deadpan
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
TG Elements:
Permission:
They're back, the laconic detectives from "Pattern."
Deadpan
by Erin Halfelven
"This is another weird one, Joe."
"What do you mean weird, Frank?"
"You've got to know what I mean, Joe."
"I'm asking, Frank."
"This is a weird one, Joe."
"What kind of weird?"
"Strange, peculiar, spooky, kinky, disturbing sort of weird."
"Yeah."
"I mean, murder isn't weird, Joe. We see too much of it."
"Yeah."
"And some of it's pretty strange."
"Yeah."
"But to kill your girlfriend then dress in her clothes and begin eating her. That's weird, Joe."
"I see what you mean, Frank."
"Weird."
"Yeah."
"Peculiar."
"Yeah. But he didn't dress in her clothes, Frank."
"No? How do you figure? She's naked and he's all dolled up in that pink frou-frou thing."
"An organdy lace evening gown. Would have been right in style thirty years ago."
"Sort of whatcha-call-it?"
"Retro, yeah, Frank."
"But you don't figure it's hers? She's lying there naked with bite marks and you don't think the dress he's wearing is hers?"
"No. She's a size eight. The perp has to be at least a sixteen."
"Twice as big."
"That's not how sizes work, Frank."
"You think it's his dress, Joe?"
"It fits him pretty well."
"Why would he wear a dress like that to commit a gruesome murder, Joe?"
"Well, it is Halloween, Frank."
"Yeah, I forgot that. Yeah, it is the night for ghosts and goblins, ain't it? Good thinking, Joe."
"Not really."
"I didn't think of it."
"You could have, Frank."
"Too weird for me. I don't think I would have thought of it. Halloween. But it's obvious."
"Yeah."
"Don't rub it in, Joe."
"I said you could have thought of it, Frank."
"Yeah, sure. You think he was on his way to a party and just stopped for a snack, Joe."
"I don't know, Frank."
"Probably, though. Going to a party, at least. Wearing an evening gown from the fifties, in his size."
"Could be."
"What else could it be, Joe?"
"Maybe he's just an old fashioned ghoul, Frank."
Deadpan Again
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
TG Themes:
TG Elements:
Permission:
They're back, just in time....
by Erin Halfelven
"Got something in your eye, Joe?"
"No, Frank."
"I mean, I just asked -- cause, like, you're blinking a lot."
"Must be the smog."
"Yeah, smog. That could be it."
"What else could it be, Frank?"
"Nothing, I guess, Joe."
"That's right. Nothing."
"You sure are cranky lately, Joe."
"What do you mean, 'cranky', Frank?"
"No, not me, you."
"What?"
"You called me, 'Cranky Frank,' Joe."
"Forget it."
"Okay, sorry. You feelin' alright, Joe?
"I'm fine."
"You're acting like your feet hurt."
"My feet do hurt."
"I thought so. Maybe your shoes are too tight."
"We're cops, Frank, our feet are supposed to hurt."
"These shoes are killing me, Joe."
"You should have worn flats."
"Ha. Ha. Very funny, Joe. Hey, you know, I think that's the first time I ever heard you tell a joke, Joe."
"I tell jokes all the time, Frank. You just don't notice."
"How am I suppose to tell, Joe? You never smile."
"Not much to smile about in this business, Frank."
"Especially today."
"Yeah."
"The way my feet hurt."
"Yeah."
"And the smog."
"Yeah."
"You got something in your eye, Joe?"
"Don't start that again, Frank."
"This case is getting on my nerves, Joe."
"You don't say."
"That was a joke, wasn't it?"
"I didn't smile, did I?"
"No, you never smile. But I said, 'This case is getting on my nerves,' and you said, 'You don't say," and obviously, I did say -- so that must have been a joke. What you call it, irony."
"I've underestimated you, Frank."
"It's cause I'm so short."
"I guess I'm your straight man."
"Now that's pretty funny, Joe."
"Not really."
"Yeah. I guess not. It's this damn case."
"Yeah."
"All these crossdressing zombies."
"Yeah."
"Enough to give you the willies. Except they don't got no willies."
"Frank."
"Yeah, Joe?"
"I'll tell the jokes today."
"But -- no one will know!"
"It's better that way, Frank."
"You're sure cranky today, Joe."
"I think we're both a bit cranky."
"Maybe...."
"Don't say it."
"Well, it is February 14th. So it's kind of true."
"Whaddaya mean, Frank?"
"We should be home with our wives. Not here in the red light district."
"I'm divorced, Frank."
"Oh, yeah. Sorry, Joe."
"You're right about one thing."
"What's that, Joe?"
"My feet are killing me."
"It's these shoes."
"Whose idea was this anyway, Frank?"
"It was yours."
"Yeah, I know."
"You said, 'Maybe we can find out who's killing these transvestites by going undercover.'"
"I know it was my idea, Frank."
"That's why we're out here, standing on the street corner dressed like drag queens."
"I know."
"So why did you ask whose idea it was?"
"You never get any of my jokes, Frank."
"Aw, I'm sorry, Joe. I can't tell cause you've got that deadpan puss."
"I'm smiling on the inside, Frank."
"You look constipated."
"..."
"Sorry, Joe."
"Here comes someone."
"Aw, shit. Do you think he sees us?"
"He's supposed to see us."
"I'm gonna die of embarrassment."
"Do I look all right?"
"Not exactly. You look like a skinny transvestite hooker, Joe."
"That's what I'm supposed to look like."
"How do I look, Joe?"
"Dumpy."
"Aw, Joe. That wasn't nice. Where did our suspect go?"
"He went to the other side of the street."
"I wonder why."
"I can't imagine, Frank."
"That's a joke? But you still ain't smiling, Joe."
"I'm a Capricorn, Frank. We're all constipated."
"Damn."
"I got you, Frank."
"I keep falling off these heels."
"You could lean against my lampost."
"Har-de-har. That was actually kind of funny, Joe."
"Write it down."
"All I've got is an eyebrow pencil, Joe."
"Too bad."
"You're blinking again. You got something in your eye, Joe?"
"Since you ask, yeah."
"Yeah? Really?"
"Yeah, I think it's the Valentine's Day Mascara."
"I'm worried about you, Joe."
Blast from the Past : Top Prizes - December 2006 Holiday Story Contest
 |
Now the moment everyone has been waiting for -- the announcement of the top prize winners in the December 2006 Holiday Story Contest. And here to read the awards are Leonardo DiCaprio and Johnny Depp, in drag, as Tom Hanks from Bosom Buddies and Tim Curry from Rocky Horror Picture Show. |
 |
Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf on Thursday 01-02-2007 at 1:53 am, this retro classic was pulled out of the closet, and re-presented for our newer readers. ~Sephrena
CAUTION: There are some music files here that are quite large. Don't DL them unless you have broadband.
"I think we showed up in the wrong sort of drag, Joe."
"What makes you say that, Frank?"
"All those people out there, they were clapping as the curtain went up but now they're just sitting there staring at us--like they want to throw a net over us. It's enough to give me the blues."
"Those aren't people, Frank."
"Damnit, Joe? They're not more zombies, are they?"
"No, Frank. They're suspects."
"What are they suspected of?"
"Some of them are suspected of winning this contest."
"Oh, yeah."
"Have you got the envelopes, Frank?"
"Right here, Joe."
"You read the first one."
"Okay, Joe. This story got votes from more people than any other story in the contest--it had to win a prize or a bunch a people might have been disappointed. Plus, it's a darn good story."
The Prodigal by Scott Ramsey
"How was that?"
"That was good, Frank. Do another one while I watch the crowd for any suspicious behavior."
"Sure Joe. This next was a toughie because this author had two outstanding stories in the contest. Which one got a prize and which one got Honorable Mention was practically a toss-up. You want to guess which story it might be, Joe."
"Just read the card."
What are you doing, Joe?"
"Taking off my hat and glasses. It's hot out here. Read the card."
The Twelve Days of Christmas by Itinerant
"Now you do one, Joe."
"Yeah. Just hold my coat, Frank."
"Okay, here's the card."
"Thanks. The third third prize winner--third third?--is by a long time favorite of a large part of the readers here, a writer with her own loyal fandom."
Christmas Surprise by Angel O'Hare
"Good, Joe. That was good. Maybe we got a future in show business, huh? How often they hold these award shoes?"
"Shows, award shows."
"Right, Joe. I just said shoes, cause, uh, you just kicked yours off?"
"My feet are hot, Frank."
"Okay."
"It's the lights, they're really hot up here."
"Okay, Joe. You ain't gonna take anything else off, are you?"
"Just my socks. Read another card."
What's that music the band is playing?"
"Read a card."
"Sounds like--like stripper music, Joe?"
"Read a card, Frank."
"Okay, Joe. Socks, whew. Hey, that doesn't smell so bad. Kind of perfumey."
"Card."
"Right. Well, any of the last three stories could have taken first or second place, 'cause someone has to--but we've got kind of dark horse winner. An author whose first story posted won the second highest prize in the contest."
Epiphany by Geronwyl
"Ah, Joe! You're taking off your shirt and--what are you wearing under there? Something black?"
"It's the music, Frank. It's making me hot."
"Us working with those crossdressing zombies is what got to you, Joe. You've gone completely round the bend here."
"It's just a little bit of undergarment, Frank."
"It's a brassiere, Joe. I know what it is."
"You're right. Something I just picked out the other night."
"You'd better read the last card, Joe. So we can go home and I can get you to a doctor."
"Wait. Wait, Frank. It's the music again. The brassiere, I can tell you it don't mean a thing."
"I didn't know you could swing--uh, sing--especially not like that. You sounded like a broad, Joe."
"I need my hat back."
"Here you go, Joe."
"Thanks, Frank. I'll read the last winner, the big prize winner. This story was kind of a surprise for the judges, because at first, none of them had it in first place. But they kept talking and sending votes back and forth and they noticed--they all three rated this story very high."
The Nick of Time by Randalynn
"It's about gangsters, Joe. Uh, Joe? What happened to your pants?"
"Take me home, Frank. It's bedtime."
If you're curious about the other awards:
Right and Left Honorable Mentions plus Special Prizes
It's been lot's of fun folks! I'll be getting in touch with the winners this week to send Joe around with their prize money. :)
Hugs,
Erin
If you're curious about the music, it's by Swing Legacy out of Boston. You can visit their site and buy a CD if you like it. I think they're very good. :)
- Erin
Author:
Audience Rating:
Permission:
Ghost-Nad & Other Drabbles
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
TG Themes:
TG Elements:
Other Keywords:
Permission:
A Grab-Bag of 100 Word Groaners
by Laika Pupkino
.
GHOST-NAD
.
Three months after her SRS, Michelle awoke before dawn
to see a glowing apparition above the foot of her bed...
It was a dick. A ghost dick!
It spoke in that warbling voice all ghosts use:
"Mi-i-ichael! I'm the ghost of your maaanhooood!
Yoooooou muuuuuuuuurdered meeeeeeeee!"
A well-aimed book hit the florescent dildo,
snapping the string it hung from.
"I know you're down there, Phyllis!"
A woman in pajamas stood up.
Michelle sighed, "Oh Honey ...... I know you hated my transitioning,
and don’t understand that I HAD to. But can't we discuss this
in the morning? Like grown-ups? Please?!"
.
.
MY SHAMEFUL SECRET...
I took the plunge today and wore it. Under my clothes. Slid it on in the bathroom,
where Janet wouldn't see.
Driving across town to work was a delicious thrill. Nobody could tell about my secret.
In the breakroom Bev and Miriam---who always acted like they found me somewhat creepy---were
chatting me up. Like my secret helped me connect with them. Just us girls.
The boss walked by. I should've known. He has a nose for these things.
He recoiled, "Good God, Hendricksen! Are you wearing women's deodorant?!"
My fetish is expanding. Now I have a pink slip...
.
.
T-GIRL, INTERRUPTIVE...
She's young, beautiful, totally passable. What does she see in an old chaser like me? Sigh :)...
But there is a downside. Wendy drinks. And then she...
Like when we saw PEARL HARBOR. She was sipping schnapps, and halfway through the picture was standing on her seat, shrieking, "KILL THE JAPS!!! KILL THE F*CKIN' JAPS!!!"
Embarrassing? Racist? God!!
Well it was a war movie, and she was into it. But next time I suggested something a bit
more ...... introspective. That English film about the widower, shyly courting the mousy librarian...
When suddenly Wendy jumps up, screaming, "KILL THE JAPS!!! KILL 'EM-"
.
.
A CHILD'S LETTER TO SANTA...
DEAR SANTA CLAUS:
I KNOW YOU ARE A MILLION YEARS OLD AND HAVE TO GO ALL OVER THE WORLD IN ONE NIGHT TO GIVE EVERYBODY PRESENTS. AND I KNOW SOMETIMES OLD PEOPLE DON'T HEAR GOOD, LIKE MY GRANMA WHO HAS A HERRING AID, AND MAYBE YOU ARE WORRIED ABOUT YOUR HOUSE WITH THE POLER ICE MELTING AND EVERYTHING.
BUT I REALLY WISH YOU LISTNED BETTER WHEN I SAT ON YOUR LAP AT MACIES
AND TOLD YOU WHAT I WANTED FOR CHRISTMAS.
I SAID I WANTED A COCKATOO! NOT A COCK OR TWO!
SINCERLY,
MARCIA GREENBLATT
(THE GIRL WITH TWO DICKS)
.
.
REDUCTIO AD ABSURDUM...
(This non-t.g. drabble is about a condition known as
Body Integrity Identity Disorder, in which an able-bodied person
wishes to become an amputee, and sometimes sets about trying to become one.
As I have taken this concept to its logical extreme, some readers may find it disturbing...)
.
Nobody understood him. Even the people in his BIID support group recoiled when he told them.
That in particular hurt. They were "trans-abled" like him. They were supposed to understand...
Finally he found a surgeon at a small clinic in Africa willing to do the deed.
The heart-lung machine and glucose drip would provide oxygen, sustainance.
The artificial kidney, his eliminative functions.
The next day he was in ecstacy. At last he was whole. What he was always meant to be!
A disembodied head!
But later, without much to do but look in the mirror, he started noticing his nose...
.
.
THE DEADPAN DETECTIVES IN: THE CASE OF THE CATALEPTIC KATOYS
The fiend was taken away in handcuffs, ranting. A doctor was called in.
"Will they be okay, Doc?"
"Hard to tell. Toxicology isn't my specialty. Why would somebody do this? Takes all kinds, I guess."
Friday glared at him. "No it doesn't. Not this kind..."
The abandoned furniture store was a ghastly spectacle. Apparently the Thai transsexuals were lured to America with promises of employment. They'd been put in strange positions and paralyzed with curare
to form chairs, sofas, ottomans. A hundred eyeballs stared in helpless terror.
"Well now I've seen everything."
"What's that, Joe?"
"A Lady Boy Furniture Showroom..."
AND JUST FOR THE HELL OF IT,
A COUPLE OF NON-TG ONES...
.
THE HELLFIRE KID TELLS HIS TALE
by LAIKA PUPKINO
Some boys dream of becomin' ship captains, others jungle explorers. Maybe a few dream of bein' lamplighters. But my judgement was polluted by penny dreadfuls and tales of the Wild West. So when Satan offered me my heart's desire, I tole him t' make me an unbeatable gunfighter.
Shouldn'ta said unbeatable. After killing my first hundred men it warn't much fun. Once outta curiousity, I didn't even draw. Somehow th' feller shot an' kill't hisself!
I'm 90 now, and soon Old Scratch'll be claimin' my soul. But I was a legend in my day...
The Faustus Gun in the West
/
IN THE MUSEUM OF LITERARY DEVICES (a drabble)
As we entered the Museum of Literary Devices, Cliff and I left our coats on the narrative hooks. We watched in fascination as a native artisan operated a framing device. There was a big part of the museum we couldn't visit because some character broke the fourth wall.
We rode the Deus ex Machina a few times, then dangled our feet in the stream of consciousness whilst munching on plot twists.
As we were about to leave, Cliff approached an odd looking contraption.
I screamed, "No Cliff, don't stick your neck in there! That's a-"
[TO BE CONTINUED]
.