Welcome to the serialized story of Mr. Harmless Bullet! A new chapter will be published every Wednesday (FREE to read). For audio - scroll down.
Genre: satire, absurdist comedy, adult humor (16+)
Written with the Tristan Tzara method - read about it here
Complete story, chapter by chapter:
Angela Marrant
CHAPTER 4. THE CRIME.
I was still clutching my favorite pillow between my legs when I got the feeling that something was wrong. I sensed the air being displaced, the strange excitement in my nerve endings, the wonder of breathing in a solid mass of danger, the sound of thunder and lightning—all that passed through me, surprising in its spontaneity.
I wanted to believe I was alone, but the flapping of wings over my head convinced me of the opposite.
“We’re not here to see your bare ass; we’re here for business,” announced Mr. Vegas’s shadow, blocking the light from the sole window in my apartment.
I knew that someone of his rank would never visit me without a safety team, but I never imagined my small studio could fit ten fully armed bodyguards. I hugged the pillow tighter.
“What kind of business? You can’t just—"
“To investigate the murder at my house, Magdalena convinced me that you are the right man for the job."
“Who was murdered?” I asked again, pulling on my boxers under the supervision of the silent Zen bird.
“Miss Amblycorypha Oblongifolia.” Mr. Vegas replied.
“Okay... Never met her,” I sighed in relief.
“She was a gift to the mayor of our city, Mr. Domination.”
The Zen suspiciously hovered above my antique drawer, where I had hidden a photo of Margaret Thatcher. To my amazement, Mr. Vegas quickly approached my bed, where I was sitting, still half-dressed, and opened that drawer. He poked his chubby finger at the photo of the middle-aged woman, hissing, “Who is she?”
I answered almost unconsciously, quivering from the horror of the situation, “Uhm, it is my assistant, Margaret…”
“If you catch the killer, I’ll introduce you to a prettier one. Here’s your payment: one hundred grand.” Mr. Vegas smiled.
As soon as I heard the number, the fear in my heart dissolved.
Mr. Vegas dropped the bag near my shoes, and I nervously pushed it under the bed. Then, a dizzying height of joy descended upon my soul.
I quickly dressed up, and we left my apartment.
As we walked down the steps, surrounded by Mr. Vegas's organized army and the demonic birds, we ran into my ex-wife, Martha.
“Where have you been, Bullet? I waited all night for you, lazy bastard!” she yelled.
I quickly covered her mouth and mumbled, “Mind your language!”
The madwoman bit my finger, and I yanked my hand back, pinching her cheek in revenge. Mr. Vegas locked his gaze onto mine, expecting an explanation.
Of course, I could tell him that my ex-wife was a cleaning lady, a delivery woman, or maybe an annoying neighbor, but I decided one dead body was enough for today.
So, I said, “This is my assistant… Martha.”
“You have more assistants than there are stars in the sky. I suppose you’re quite the detective...” Mr. Vegas glanced at my ex’s disheveled hair as he exited through the main entrance.
I slowly followed him to his car.
“You see… Margaret is my spiritual assistant, and the one from the stairs is my body assistant,” I revealed to Mr. Vegas while sitting in his eburnean Bentley behind tinted windows.
The realization that my ex-wife would find that magical bag full of cash tore my soul to pieces, but there was no turning back. I started to cry, opening and closing my hands, uncertain of what to say or do.
After a short drive, we arrived at the famous beach house.
“Papi! I’ve missed you!" Magdalena shouted from the hallway, tears streaming down her face, a dark, super-slim cigarette between her fingers.
I stood silently and watched my dreamy Sobekneferu jump up and wrap her legs around Mr. Vegas' body.
“Your brother Hammer is here. You mentioned he’s the best private detective in town, and I believe you, lill rabbit," replied a cheerful Mr. Vegas.
“Yeah, he is! A true science man… Come here, broddaaar.”
I managed to twist my head away from Sobekneferu’s arms—at that moment, the crowd in white filled the space. One man gave instructions; others fiddled with magnifying glasses near the stairs.
I stared at the crime scene in confusion.
“Hey, are you Hammer? Well, the room is yours,” said a man in a red silk robe as he shook my hand. “I’m a local pathologist, Arcadio Hardstone. The body is currently being transported, and I plan to send you the postmortem report by the end of the day. We have gathered all the necessary DNA, footprints, and scents. I must mention that the victim was pregnant and encrusted with bright yellow diamonds. As you understand, we found no diamonds on the body… I guess someone had carefully removed them.”
As in a fog, I stared at the pink spot near the broad, dark staircases where I was making my way out this early morning. I could hear a strange crunch beneath my foot. Or maybe it was the carpet that made the sound creaky?
“Wait, Mr. Hardstone!! I don’t understand—who is the victim?” I stopped the pathologist on the way out.
He explained that someone killed a rare type of pink, long-winged katydid known as Miss Amblycorypha Oblongifolia, which could imitate the voices of eleven different insects.
I was horrified.
Am I a murderer?
When all the men left, Magdalena hugged me from behind, licking my ear: "Do you wanna something special later on, Misteeerrrr Detective? I’m off after supper.”
My body relaxed and surrendered to her touch. I stood there for a few seconds, trying to figure out how to break free from her intense sexual energy. Magdalena’s arms squeezed me even tighter—her tongue penetrated the weakest corners of my soul.
The room's buzz returned to normal when Mr. Vegas clapped me on the shoulder and said, “You can begin, detective. Don't just stand here... You have only twenty-four hours to uncover the truth.”
The process started.
As it turned out, last night, Mr. Vegas invited over 200 guests to his house, including our city's mayor, Mr. Domination, and my director, Mr. Killing.
“I can’t believe our mayor is breeding them. Why? For money? Science? Pleasure?” I whispered in shock.
“You are such a fool! The first rule of successful investing is to believe. But the second and the most important rule is knowing where to hide the diamonds,” Magdalena said.
“Hm. Okay, but I need a space to investigate, think, and work...” I blushed at the lie and quickly handed the paper with only three names on it to Mr. Vegas' patronizing face, who re-entered the hall after a short conversation with a forensic team.
“Here’s the list of people I’d like to talk to, Mr. Vegas,” I said.
“No problem. Just follow me; you can use my office.”
I was left alone in a dark space full of vicious insects.
Believe it or not, I wished I could be an invisible man…
And yes, I would have liked to return to my daily bus rides and boring work, but instead, I pulled out the chair in the middle of the room and prepared to interrogate my main suspects.
to be continued…
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