Tag Archives: Officer Mustardgas^*=

00470416

Newtown policepeople Michelle Roundup and Bill Mustardgas also formed a legitimate and formidable team but they were currently investigating the Blue Moon static murders over on the old continent of Our Second Lyfe and thus unavailable.

Nor were Ted and Cruise of the potential When Push Comes to Shovel team, still on the clock down at the motor shop and unable to get off.

Which left the following, assembled in the sewer room underneath the entrance to also absent Alfred’s grocer store (sick with pill), the heart of the matter. Starting back row to the right, we have Norris and Pietmond, 2 gypsies (don’t call them hippies!) who rammed and bammed into town from the South Gate in a most dramatic fashion back at the beginning of this here section, killing a number of Germans but defending their actions by saying they were zombies and not real people. Were they right? Let’s move on down the row and we might see.

Next are Eight and Eighty last seen in the ratskeller beneath town hall, waiting for Alessandra who is the same as a white-clad Wheeler. Wheeler mistakened one of them for town *owner* Rag Doll, but she got her position wrong in town. The owner herself will be arriving shortly to correct all that.

Moving on to the second row from the back — and also the front — we have Osborne Well and, next to him, his daughter Lou, taking the place of Ruby and Bookie who also couldn’t make it for various reasons. Next is Wheeler likewise subbing for Alessandra, but, unlike the others, not directly sitting with her partner, who would be next up in our review front row right: Newt. Then to finish our teams off we have Dimmy and Marilyn M. from the cloth shop scene a couple of posts ago.

Time for dancing around the main subject matter is over. Red clad Shelley and now black clad mate Eddy unclasp themselves from each other and leave the stage. Rag Doll takes control….

(to be continued)

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mustard seed

“Remember, heh, remember the Pickleland static murders, Wanda? Good times. Back then you were known as Michelle Roundup and, me, Bill Mustardgas. Good undercover work. We nabbed those snowmen.”

“And got some nummy popcorn out of it too!” she joked back, but then became serious. She wasn’t with Tank any longer, either professionally or personally which, for her, usually go hand in hand. Dimmy was the exception, and Marilyn is about to solve that problem. “Tank?”

“Yeah?” He waited with baited breathe. Were they a team again? Had he done good by telling her that Dimmy’s new pink lipstick was actually Marilyn’s new lipstick and that Dimmy wasn’t applying it himself, despite the rumors about town, rumors planted by Marilyn herself, still trying to get back at Wanda after all these years. This was still a black and white situation, which meant black vs. white, which means good vs. evil. Trouble is, no one knows who is who and which is which. Both witches in a way to everyone around. East vs. West is another way to put it.

“I think we should study static again.” She met his eyes. She was dead serious about this. “You take, say, Tennessee, and, me, Kentucky.”

All Tank’s effort has paid off!

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lines

The Sun and Moon seem to be moving very fast in this town.

“I thought I’d come talk to you first, Marilyn, clarify some stuff about your angle in this, ahem, evolving story. We have bigots in town, we have zombies, probably all wearing spiked or non-spiked helmets. Like that policeman who keeps eyeing me all around town.”

She wanted to say Tank but held back. And Bazooka — Bazooka was his dad, and, as former captain of the force back in the good ol’ days, the one who wore the spiked helmet. Tank: just a bright blue cap. Put him in the bigot category.

Then she remembered the slip of paper in her jeans pocket, the one she was suppose to pull out in case she got stuck. She pulled, she read. “Moms, don’t let your boys grow up to be Dimmy Jean.”

Silence. Was that helpful? she pondered, staring into his watery eyes. Was he… crying?

—–

Dimmy wipes the counter down nervously, thinking that 1/2 the people in the room are watching him and half aren’t. But he doesn’t know which. He tries to determine friend from foe through the caps and helmets but all the lines get blurred together. He’s lost it. He needs to go home but he doesn’t even know where that is any more. Home is here I suppose, he says to himself. He pours two shots of Jack Daniels, one for the raccoon man and one for himself. “Here’s to home,” he proclaims while raising his glass, resigned to the fact. Over in one gulp, he pours another while 1/2 the room still eyes him.

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spikey

“We’ve got to keep an eye out on that [black guy] walking over there, Virus.”

“Rrrrrrr–rough!”

“Good boy.”

—–

“Just black and white,” The Mann determined about some lips in another 0117 post to end. “No pink.”

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more Highcastle

Shauna never made it out of the static monster (aka snow monster) realm.

“Shameful waste of life,” spoke investigating Officer Bill Mustardgas over to fellow investigating Officer Michelle Roundup. “But also, wouldn’t you agree, a shameful waste of popcorn, nom nom nom.”

“Agreed! nom nom nom.”

—–

Tessa was nosing around the castle while waiting. “Grandpa?”

—–

“I hear that my step-cousin didn’t make it in from the snow today, Willa. When will it stop snowing? Will it be March?” *sigh*

“Pills!” exclaimed the Registered Nurse, a type of monster herself who had a whole bunch in her hand to cure any ail.

“Put those away and bring the girl to me,” she commanded, wanting to stay lucid if melancholy for the moment. “The Grand Niece”.

—–

“Stop looking over there, child. Stop touching things.”

“Oh, okay,” Tessa agreed while lowering her hand, trying to stay compliant. She knew this woman — creature — before her had valuable information about her beloved Grandpa. Was it possible that he was still alive? She had to find out.

“Look at me, girl. Look me in the eyes.” Tessa did as she asked again. “Do you know who I am? Do you know why you’re here?”

Tessa said she’d heard that she was a member of the family and that she could come to the castle to live if she wished. She was told she could also take step-cousin Shauna’s room soon, and that Shauna was going away for a while and that she might not be coming back.

“That is correct, child,” then spoke the creature before her, who had decided to take the name Daisy Mae March as a sign of hope that the Realm of Snow will end soon. “The Grandpa is upstairs,” Daisy stated, knowing what was foremost in Tessa’s mind.

Joy! Reunion with the most beloved! But then the complete downer was revealed: Grandpa was still dead and only living in Grandma’s head while she herself remained alive. Grandma? Tessa then thought, puzzled. April Mae Flowers?

“Who are you?” she demanded, eyes boring into her now.

“So much pain, Tessa. Yes, you are most definitely one of us.” Joy in return.

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found

“Boy I sure love these new mesh chairs the chief got us, dad.”

“Yes, certainly helps with the ailing back and neck, son.”

—–

“I’m here to file a report about a missing town,” spoke Ben Wolf, towering in his good looks.

Bazooka, the elder of the two policemen, indicates a seat beside the bloodied werewolf in the background. “Take a ticket,” he says, and then laughs at his son about the duplicity.

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home

“Officer Ferguson’s just here to ask you a couple of questions, pumpkin.”

“Da-ddy! Don’t call me that.” She indicated her pink outfit. “Wrong color!”

“Oh, this won’t take but a second of your time, me laddie,” interrupted Tank Ferguson, uncomfortable with talking about colored people. “We’re just here to discuss your visit to the old Perch place from the other day. We suspect — an unrendering of volume.”

The Man — playing Pink’s daddy in the current scene — gasped from his corner, but the gesture was a forgery. Fooled Tank, though, which was the important thing in the moment. “You *didn’t*,” he exclaimed to his little pink girl. “So… you saw the Big Inside,” he further rationalized. He turned to Officer Ferguson. “I *promise* Tank, that this will *never* happen again. I’ll — well I’ll never let her out of the house again!”

“Da-ddy,” Marsha “Pink” Krakow offered quieter now. “It was just a one time thing. We didn’t *go* inside… the, you know, Big Inside. We just looked at it, peered in just a bit. Peeked in, ahem.” Marsha “Pink” Krakow knew she had slipped up with the mention of a “peak”. Tank Ferguson, who majored in psychology before switching to criminal justice just before what would have been his senior year, caught the Fraudian slip. Pink’s face started turning beet red. Tank pivoted toward The Man. “I think we know what’s going on now.”

“We *do*?” he sputtered, but also knowing full well what was going on just beneath the surface slippage.

“I’m going to verify it with that SEAN child who lives down on Arnold Lane and then Olive Green, if she’s returned from the monastery.”

“You’ll never find her,” boldly responded Pink to the officer, in full defense mode now. “She’ll always be hiding just outside your grasp.”

“Oh I think I know where I can *find* her,” retorted Officer Tank Ferguson, smug look appearing on his face. He stared at The Man again. “Just so happens *I* have a daddy involved as well.”

“Bazooka?” shot back The Man, truly thinking the old geezer was dead in his grave. He’d been away too long.

(to be continued?)

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Golden Jim 02

And you’re positive you’ve got all the prints from this place. Don’t want to contaminate a crime scene.”

“Oh, we’ve got them all right,” answered Officer Mustardgas, who had met him at Baumbeer’s building. “All in our database except one. Dr. Baumbeer, of course (West). Then this guy called Gill Alex from MISTY MO who lives over in another ‘Japanese tea house’ in Black Dragon (South). He’s on vacation with his, ahem, boyfriend Rock Ramby. Mind you, we get fingerprints from all strangers who come in town. Then Blue Berry Girl, who’s currently in Marwood (North), and who also hails from MISTY MO. Staying alone over there. We’re still researching the odd MISTY MO connection. Then, um, one other person we can’t figure out. She has red hair, is all we know. And a red cap. Face scars,” he furthered. “Perhaps effects of a botched surgery or something. We’re only guessing, mind you, from what Blue Berry Girl and Gill Alex reported to us. It would be perhaps logical if she was from MISTY MO as well, but BBG and GA insist they don’t know her. Admittedly, we’re scrambling. Glad to have you on board, Golden Jim. Especially with the chief being on vacation.”

Mental note, Golden Jim thinks. A lot of vacations going on here. Including his own. “And you say this was Baumbeer’s initial meeting to find True Center (of NWES)?”

“Correct.”

“Witchcraft?” Golden Jim queries. “They might have been trying to evoke something which threatened to kill them all, not just Baumbeer. Took possession of the red cap girl.”

“We like to call her the red hair girl,” requested Mustardgas.

“Of course. As you wish.” Golden Jim stopped attempting to rock on the horse and stood up, walked out to the small balcony of the building. “Who’s Guy Linden?” he then asked while looking down at the “land spirit shrine.”

—–

“So… Baumbeer was sitting in the green chair when it happened. The red haired girl sitting in the red chair just opened fire on him. Gill Alex and Blue Berry Girl in the yellow and blue chairs respectively were the witnesses.” Golden Jim had a hunch. “What if — hear me out because this is going to sound crazy — but what if Gill Alex and Blue Berry Girl — one or the other — were *also* trying to kill each other?”

—–

After not answering again, Mustardgas walked over to the table and picked up an envelope stuffed to the gills with paper.

“Then there’s this.” Mustardgas handed the golden packet to Golden Jim. “Came in the day after the chief went to Gaston. From a local woman named Alice Farrowheart. Said she went to that new gallery in town I told you about: the Red Umbrella. Said she saw something that relates to this case in the art collages there, starting with the image of a *rabbit*.”

—–

It makes sense, he thought later in his “cave” apartment on the other side of town while studying the information. Gazelle here equals *gazette*, as in the place where Alice Farrowheart first learned of the death. Half gazelle, actually. Half rabbit. That was the beginning.

—–

Back to earlier in the day at Baumbeer’s place:

“And your database covers the 4 sims of NWES, representing the 4 cardinal directions.”

“That’s right,” answered the heavily mustachioed policeman. “If this was a meeting about True Center, then the person in the red chair, the final piece of the puzzle, should have been from the East: Apple’s Orchard (Applewood).

“No possibility of broadening your search to neighboring sims is it? Say, Chapala?” Golden Jim had checked. The billboard of the girl with the red cap lies just below Apple’s Orchard. Outside of NWES, that is. This is obviously where she came from; he was sure of it now. The local police couldn’t figure out what was hanging heavily right under their noses. Soon they’d gotten a name. Lu Ellen. Lu Ellen Hutchinson.

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