Private Dick; Chapter Twenty

The following may be grammatically incorrect, to highlight the

main character's lack of smarts! 

Chapter Twenty:

 

     I’ve got a hot case.  An actor for the Greater Seattle Acting Group, or, GAS (don’t ask!), has hired me to investigate why he didn’t land the coveted role of Cassie Sims, in the highly-anticipated stage production of ‘Dudes and Babes.’  I suspect it’s because he’s got a five-o’clock shadow, and his legs are very hairy, but I cleverly didn’t mention that maybe it’s on account of his being a dude.    

 

 

     So, I decided to attend opening night and go backstage afterwards.

 

 

     I was seated in my seat (no, in someone else’s!), and the curtain rose, to show a dude, although his hair was so long, it was hard to tell, sitting in a chair, with a cardboard sign hanging around his neck, proclaiming him Duke Fraser.  If I had any doubt who he was, the first words out of his mouth were,

 

     “Hi, I’m Duke Fraser.”

 

     Wow, what a winner this play ought to be!  Then, a girl appeared on stage, also with a sign around her neck, proclaiming her to be Cassie Sims.  I’d say my client got aced out of the part by about 38DD.  I mean, these babies were huge!  Cassie Fraser was speaking, but to tell you the truth, I didn’t hear a word; dialog, smyalog. I heard her say,

    

     “Hi, I’m Cassie Sims,” but not much after that.  She might have been the greatest actress since sliced bread, but I wouldn’t know; I couldn’t get my eyes to move up to her face. 

 

 

     It turned out that it was a good thing she was well-endowed, because the play blew.  Without the jiggling distraction, everybody would have left.  I mean, this play screamed, “Looosseerr!”

 

 

     After the curtain rang down, I made my way backstage.  The actress playing Cassie Sims was speaking to a man wearing the pompousness of importance like a suit of armor.  After watching Cassie bounce up and down for quite a long while, I cleared my throat.  It failed to get their attention, so I coughed a little louder.  Still no reaction on their part.  They continued talking like I wasn’t staring at them.  I could have waved a red flag and jumped up and down, and I doubt they’d have even noticed.   I got pissed, and really hawked up a lung.  Finally, they stopped talking, and the self-important little troll of a man turned towards me and said,

 

     “Can we help you?  Maybe with the sound of that cough, we ought to call a doctor?”

 

     I somehow managed, “No, that won’t be necessary; a boulder just went down the wrong pipe.”  To tell you the truth, I had cleared my throat so long and so loud, my eyes were watering, and speaking was difficult.  “I’m a private investigator, and you are?” I asked in the direction of the little man.

 

     He relied, “Mace Treadway, the director.”

 

     “And these--err--this must be the talented (said talent stopped somewhere below her chin!) Arcadia Crest.  Quite a performance!”  Or, at least it would have been, until she ruined it by speaking!

 

    “Yes, that’s right; always glad to meet one of my fans,” and she turned her cheek like I was expected to either kiss it, or punch it. I cleverly guesses the former. 

 

     “Mr. Treadway, I was going to ask you why you chose Miss Crest to play the part of Cassie Sims, but I won’t insult your intelligence by asking you that,” I said, staring at Arcadia Crest’s--err--twin talents.  “Instead, I’ll just congratulate you.” For having the balls to call this goiter a play! I thought to myself.

 

     “Err, Thank you.”

 

     I got the impression Mr. Treadway was used to handing out thank you’s like Halloween candy; often, and it was cheap. 

 

 

     I returned to my office, and called my client with both the bad news, and the bill.  At first he was angry, but then I told him he had captivating eyes, and would have made a fine Cassie Sims. Yeah, if he could sprout a pair of 38DD’s!