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 6. THE TERRACE.
The last suspect on my list was the glorious Mrs. Vegas, but I decided to let things slide because:
a) I found my real Sobekneferu queen,
b) my job as a private investigator was done,
c) I had to rush back to secure my money.
I went to inspect the stone Arcadio Hardstone mentioned because I promised myself I would check each clue before announcing the result. Suddenly, I felt an overwhelming desire to jump into the sea, to wash away all my troubles, to feel ‘simply Harmless’ again—here, in this moment, in my beautiful city of Rsa. The blazing sun beckoned me to unknown distances; the sea breeze promised to take me to the land of my fantasies; the vast wings of the bird obscured the light of the magical Atlantis, surprising my meditative state of mind. In silence, Zen sat on my shoulder, clawing its oversized beak into my tender flesh. I cried, falling on the sand like an infant.
When I opened my eyes, the first thing I noticed was Mrs. Vegas’s perfect legs. I bounced up frantically, dusting off my suit. My gaze fell on the bizarre pink pollen the bird left on my arm.
“What a fool I was!” I wiped my forehead, heading towards the terrace, but Mrs. Vegas blocked the path. To strengthen her dominant position, the fifth lady placed one leg on the edge of my shoulder while her other leg remained standing. She kept looking at me with fiery, longing eyes… I knew I had to go through her intense wilderness with fierce, demon-like noise if I wanted to get back to the terrace on time.
“I was hoping we might chat for a few minutes… in my bedchamber upstairs.” Said Mrs. Vegas.
I checked my watch, “What for? I know I ought to be over-excited, like previous times, but you see, darling, all I can think of is the crime, the money, and the royal life in Gunung Kinabalu with my real Sobekneferu.”
Mrs. Vegas snorted, then kicked me, declaring, “A word of advice for the future, Mr. Harmless. If you plan to survive in the Vegas world, you’d better make sure you are a friend of the noblest and most generous part of this family.”
I had no time to share my views on the matter or defend myself, but I felt that the local temperature had dropped at least ten degrees cooler.
I rushed out to the gates, bowing my head in despair. There, I asked a chauffeur in a white uniform to return to my apartment and bring a photo of Margaret Thatcher from the antique bedside table. Satisfied, I walked back to the beach house.
It was a warm, unusually bright evening. The terrace outside was crowded, with tables crammed closely in three rows. The middle section was empty, with a gold podium. In the distance, I detected the staggering silhouette of my boss, Mr. Killing. I paused in the doorway, observing the relaxed Arcadio Hardstone, who was reading a financial magazine.
"Are you interested in the latest stock market trends, Mr. Hardstone?” I asked him with a sly smile, intending to tease the ugliest animal I’d ever seen—his armadillo Jack.
The animal lifted his fuzzy head, every hair on his back prepared for mortal combat. Noticing that maneuver, I retired into the shadow of the cold, sunless hall.
In the middle row of the terrace, nestled between the tables filled with endless chewing and a cacophony of glasses, sat the glamorous Miss Magdalena, enjoying the touch of Mr. Vegas’ fingers. She wore a mauve bikini. The memories of our last meeting at the beach were still vivid in my mind. I sighed.
“Hey, Voodoooo Investigator! Are you hiding? Am I right that you know who did it?” Mr. Vegas laughed.
“Your bird is the murderer. Your future wife is a cheater. Your son is a wanker. And your friend, the pathologist, also known as your banker… is a thief,” I muttered from the darkness.
“Only four phrases, yet they contain such a world,” someone added from behind me.
I turned, watching as four guards wheeled in something that turned out to be the Mayor of our city. He had a round Irish face, creased in a jovial grin that remained in place regardless of the conversation topic. Each of his guards carried four guns. They looked like men who could kill quickly, accurately, and passionately. I had never seen Mr. Domination below the belt, and now I understood why. Our mayor was chained to a shapeless wheelchair with countless blue pipes. How this ancient man managed to win over twenty-five other… relatively young and healthy candidates to become the Mayor of Rsa was beyond my understanding.
While I tried to figure out my future strategy for delivering the news about the murderer, Miss Magdalena lurched and unceremoniously sat down near the mayor’s knees, dropping her curly blonde head on the blanket that covered his legs. A creep of excitement snuck onto the terrace. At that moment, a chauffeur pushed me out of the shadows, shoving a photo of Margaret into my pocket.
“Please, "Forgive Mr. Chopper… he is mute and deaf," explained Mr. Vegas.
I envied Mr. Chopper because, unlike me, he didn’t have to answer to the powerful of this world, working for money that I may never see. I briskly jumped onto the podium, holding a photograph of Margaret Thatcher above my head. The photo was topped with pink marks.
“Here is the proof!” I yelped.
“Closer to the point,” Mr. Domination said calmly, narrowing his eyes.
“I would like to express my gratitude to Zen, the bird of our generous host, Mr. Flamingo Vegas, as it reminded me that when I placed a bag of money, ahem, I meant payment, under the bed… I noticed pink pollen. A short note: ‘I’m highly allergic to any kind of pollen and, in fact, animal hair.’” I paused, hatefully staring at armadillo Jack. “Then, I saw the same dust at the crime scene and on my new suit—the remains of your precious katydid. Let me explain how it all happened…”
Heart-stopping fear couldn’t block my heroic speech. I openly told the shocked crowd of high-class beasts how Zen ate a poor katydid, how lewd Magdalena met immoral Arcadio under the stairs, how Mr. Vegas’s bored son filmed them, how I left the room of salacious Mrs. Vegas around 4 am, how each of us tramped on the body of the rare pink creature, unaware of the previous murder, how Arcadio hid diamonds, and at the end, about the evil lies Mr. Domination told to the lovely princess of Gunung Kinabalu. I also mentioned the kidnapping act performed by Mr. Vegas, who probably tried to help his friend.
“I expected a different verdict from your investigator, Flamingo. Such a waste of time,” Mr. Domination frowned, increasing the cold temperature outside.
Mr. Vegas nervously grabbed me by the collar, “Is this your final word, Hammer bro?”
His son gripped a bucket of exotic fruits and threw it over Magdalena. Mrs. Vegas stretched her body to stop him but was hauled back by the guards.
Only Mr. Domination maintained control amid the chaos. With a royal gesture, he peeled off his warm blanket and hissed to Mr. Killing, “Grab my rifle! Quickly!” but Mr. Arcadio Hardstone was more alert and agile.
Frozen panic streamed from the sickening air into my nostrils, infiltrating my bloodstream. Unable to move, I somehow pulled myself closer to the stairs and grasped the hand of a stunned Miss Amblycorypha Oblongifolia, who was hiding there. After a long kiss, we dashed out of the beach house to the car.
I could hear the sound of the bullets above my head.
I could see the swing of the axe and the marks on the doors.
A quick glimpse back was all I needed—I increased my speed.
Inside Flamingo Vega’s red Jaguar, I crouched down as low as my stiff body would allow, praying to escape this insane situation alive.
Miss Ablycorypha Oblongifolia’s legs were fully connected to the car's wheels. Yet, despite this, her left hand went down without any warning and grasped the mysterious object that was climbing out of my trousers.
“Please, noooo, not now! Just drive,” I groaned.
“Our kingdom is so fortunate. You’re going to be an amazing husband,” the woman smiled, watching the wrestling match I was having with my zipper.
to be continued…
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