a comedy/detective story i started writing a while ago

[Philip K Dick]

A Story with Characters and a Plot
by Armon Pakdel




Chapter I:


- Location: ??? Time: ??? -

The time was drawing near.
"I don't cut no corners. I'm always... straight to the point, ya know?" said mystery figure A.
Mystery figure B nodded. Being infinitely more concise than mystery figure A, and knowing it, he solemnly acknowledged this farce with no hesitation. Unfortunately for them, one of them had to die that night.


- Later, in court -

"I hereby sentence you, Julio Jose Trinidad Ochos Nueves Cinco de Mayo El Dia de los Muertos Nacho Burrito Taco Enchilada Supreme Deluxe Combo Meal Ramirez to life term in prison with no possibility of parole." And down came the gavel.
A silence hung over the courtroom, one that would warp the life of a certain viewer of the trial forever... Quinton Ports.

He came in as a citizen of society and left as a man questioning existence. His mind disturbed by the swift atrocities of that jury, he vowed one thing. He would not rest til he saw Julio Ramirez once more... and asked him the lingering question that hung moist in the air.


- The State Maximum Security Penitentiary, some time later -

Julio: Come to ask me why I did it?

Quinton: Mr. Ramirez. I-

J: Cut it with the formalities. Just call me Jose.

Q: Uh, sure. Jose, I need to ask you a few questions.

J: Go ahead, fire away. It won't make no difference anyway. Ha. Guess I'm a poet and I didn't even know it.

Q: Uh huh. So... you were convicted of killing your brother, Pablo. Honestly, now that the trial is over, do you care if I ask you?

J: ...Ask me what, cabron?

Q: Did you really kill him?

J: ...Does it even matter now, holmes? I mean, you heard the judge. Life sentence with no possibility of parole. I'm stuck in this dump forever.

Q: I watched your trial, Jose. I know what was presented. But a couple things have been bugging me. Can you just give me a straight answer?

J: Fine. I did not murder my brother, Pablo.

Q: The evidence seems pretty clear that you did. I mean, your fingerprints are on the knife. And the witness claims you two were the only ones in the room before the murder took place.

J: Well then, maybe you should be talking to the witness instead of me!

Q: I already did...


- The Salted Swordfish Bar & Grill, a few days before -

The air was thick with the scent of seafood as Quinton Ports pulled out a chair and sat down. Across from him was a woman of moderate attractiveness, as far as the popular opinion went. She wore dark sunglasses and donned a maroon beret.
"You know why you're here?" asked Ports.
"Yes, and frankly I'm not too happy about it considering the case is over, but I didn't really have a choice, you know? Its not like I had nothing to do, I mean I could be doing my nails, getting my hair done-"
"Spare me the details, please." pleaded Ports. "Now, about the case..."
"Wow, you sure do like to get straight to the point." said the woman. "Just like my ex-husband, who by the way looks a little like you. Are you two related? Anyway, I was reading Generic Gossip Magazine Weekly the other day and-"
"Please, Ms. Vinson. I'm here regarding the case. Not the latest gossip on your favorite celebrity."
"Are you sure you're not related to my ex-husband? Cause you sure talk a lot like him like him..." whined the incessant Ms. Vinson.
"And I'm sure there's a good reason for that." replied Ports. "Now, can I verify that you did in fact see Pablo and Julio Ramirez in that daycare center before Pablo's estimated time of death at 8:15 PM?"
"I believe you can."
"What were you doing in the daycare?"
"I work there."
"That late?"
Cameron Vinson blinked twice.
"Why, yes. I get paid more that way. Didn't I already clear this up during the trial?"
"This is just for verification. Now, what exactly were you doing during this time?"
"Well, since you seem to be so persistent in learning facts that you should already know, I suppose I'll tell you."
Ports didn't like this woman a bit. She cleared her throat, and began.
"I was reading a magazine in the sitter's lounge - that's where all the employees go to get away from the uh, kids - and racking up the hours."
"Who else was in the building?" asked Ports.
"Well, I didn't think anybody was there, at first. Then I heard shouting, so I went over to investigate. I saw the victim and the killer then, from a crack in the door. They were in the play area. They looked like two ordinary gangsters, and I didn't want to get involved anything, so I left."
"Two ordinary gangsters? Were they really that ordinary?"
"Well... I... I don't exactly... what does this have to do with anything?"
"Just tell me what they looked like."
"Well, now that you mention it... they did look a lot alike. Other than their clothes, they almost looked like the same person."
Ports did a double take.
"So you mean to say... the two people you saw looked like identical twins?"
"You could say that, I suppose."
This was it. His big break. The key to unlocking the unrest in his mind.
"You do realize, Ms. Vinson, that although Julio and Pablo Ramirez are brothers, they do look vastly different in facial structure."
"Well, I mean I COULD be mistaken..."
"Based on your comments just now, I have reason to believe that the two people you saw that night were not the Ramirez brothers."
Ms. Vinson's expression was that of confusion.
"So you mean... my testimony in court could have been put an innocent man in jail?"
"Maybe. That's what I'm trying to figure out."


- Back at the The State Maximum Security Penitentiary -

Julio: What was your name again?

Quinton: Quinton... Quinton Ports.

Julio: Why do you care about me?

Quinton: It's a feeling in my gut. Whenever I see a case go down like this, I know something's not right.

Julio: Heh. You are right about that, cabron. I didn't murder my bro. But... you should keep your nose out of this one.

Quinton: What? Are you insane? Don't you want to get out of jail?

Julio: Of course. But there's no way its gonna happen.

Quinton: What if I found a way to disprove a piece of evidence? Say, the witness's testimony?

Julio: Holmes, even if you disproved that, there's still the fingerprints on the knife.

Quinton: Do you want me to help you?

Julio: ...I never asked for help.

Quinton: What are you hiding? Is it important enough to spend the rest of your life in prison for?

Julio: I think this conversation is over, Meester Ports.

The guard escorted Quinton Ports out of the premises. But that lingering feeling was still there. He was determined to get to the bottom of this, no matter what it took.


- Location: ??? Time: ??? -

"There goes our little problem..." said Mystery Figure A.
"That leaves one more..." mumbled Mystery Figure B.


- The Grand Judges' Office, a few days after the prison conference -

"I just don't see it, Quinton. I know you're my cousin and all, but why do you want to see this verdict overturned so badly?" asked the Judge.
"I just know something's up." said Ports. "Did you listen to all of the tape I sent you?"
"Yes... how did you manage to sneak a tape recorder into that prison anyway? Being the supreme law of the land, I have the right to punish you, but being your cousin..."
"Let's just talk about the case for now. I think... there's something behind all of this. Something much bigger than just a simpler murder. That's why Julio won't even talk to save his own hide."
"You know what I think? I think... I never should have invited you to that trial in the first place."
"Randolph! Listen to me, please. I can get this case overturned with your help-"
"And why would I want it overturned when I could be staying at home, taking a big shit and enjoying life?"
"Um. Because you put an innocent man in jail?"
"And that's what we all need to put beside us sometimes. You just need to remember what's more important. Other people's innocence, or that feeling when you spread your ass cheeks and spew out a big old nasty turd right in the middle of the toilet. Sometimes that turd hits the rim, and you have to clean it up, and sometimes that turd gives you an ulcer because you push too hard. But all in all, that turd is more important than some dumb asshole whose pathetic existence is even more worthless now that he is behind bars, and nothing is going to change that. Catch my drift?
"Not exactly. But I'll leave you and your fecal matters to yourself."
And with that Quinton left the judges' office, never to return.


- The Scene of the Crime, a few hours later -

Ports had already talked his way past the officer in the front, convincing him that he was a special detective here for forensic matters. Which was true. The forensic part, at least.
Now examining the building for clues, Ports felt there had to be something in here that would reveal the truth. For example, a bloodstained pair of scissors, which Ports happened to stumble upon that very moment.
"Ah-hah!" he cried. "Finally, the truth is becoming clear!"
"Maybe you shouldn't talk so loud." said the officer, from outside, at a normal speaking volume that could be heard from inside the daycare center.
"Maybe I should, and maybe I shouldn't!" hollered back Ports. He was too excited to care.


- Quinton Ports' Apartment, that night -

Dear Diary

Based on my detective work so far, I have found the vital clue that will bring this case to fruition. A pair of scissors with a big bloodstain on it! This could potentially be the actual murder weapon... This combined with that annoying witness's testimony will surely get Julio out of jail... and then they'll see... they'll all see that I DO have what it takes to be a real detective... HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!


- In Court, the next day -

"So... Mr. Ports... why exactly did you bring up the case of Julio Ramirez again?" asked the Judge, obviously flustered by Quinton's inability to comprehend his fecal metaphors.
Ports paced back and forth as he spoke..
"Your... honor... I have reason and evidence to believe that the defendant in this case is in fact, innocent."
"Well then, please, don't hesitate to show us this... evidence."
"Oh, I won't. Please bring Ms. Cameron Vinson to the stand... again."
Ms. Vinson was ushered up onto the witness stand.
"Ms. Vinson... please reiterate the night of the murder for us." commanded Ports.
"Well, OK. But only since you said please. I was reading a magazine in the lounge of the daycare I work at. I hate repeating things, you know that? Anyway, I heard shouting from the other room, so I left."
There was a brief silence.
"What do you mean, you left?" demanded Ports.
"What do you mean, what do I mean? I left. I heard strange noises, so I left. I'm kind of spooked easily."
"That's not what you told me earlier. You said you saw two men, who looked exactly the same."
"I've never even seen you before, and I don't know why I would say such a silly thing to somebody I've never met!"
The judge intervened then.
"Ports! This isn't going anywhere! You said you had proof that Julio Ramirez was not guilty. I'm still waiting for this 'evidence'."
"Um... yes... well, OK, forget the witness. Your honor, I have decisive evidence that will prove the defendant innocent once and for all."
"Yes?"
"Uh... hold on one second... it's gotta be here somewhere..." said Ports and he fumbled with his jacket pocket.
"Um, I think I left it in my car." whimpered Ports.
"Well hurry up and get it." said the Judge. "We don't have all day here."
Ten minutes later, Ports came running in the courtroom with the evidence.
"Hey! Don't run with scissors, idiot!" yelled the judge.
"Sorry about that. Anyway, here it is, the real murder weapon!"
Another brief silence enveloped the courtroom.
"And what makes you so sure this is the real murder weapon?"
"Because... its a pair of scissors... with blood on it... I found it at the murder scene."
"Did you even know whose blood that is?"
"...No?"
"This court will not be made a mockery of. You, your testimony, and your evidence have failed to prove anything to me. Neither I, this court, or my shitty ass has the patience for you, you pathetic waste of space. Get out of my courtroom at once!"


- Quinton Ports' Apartment, later that day -

Ports didn't know what to do. He had blown his one chance at success. But a question still lurked in his mind. Why didn't Cameron Vinson talk? She seemed completely willing before... what could have happened? Ports was determined to get to the bottom of this. His reputation was staked on it. He tried calling her number to arrange another meeting but alas, there was no response. He would try again tomorrow and hope for the best...


- Quinton Ports' Apartment, the next morning -

Ports couldn't believe the headline. "CONVICTED CRIMINAL ESCAPES FROM MAXIMUM SECURITY CELL - KILLS TWO IN PROCESS". One look at front page and he didn't even have to guess.

Julio Ramirez. Could he have really killed his brother? He claims he didn't do it, but then he goes and kills two jail guards in bare blood. None of this is adding up. Especially Cameron Vinson's testimony. Seeing two of the same person... then changing her mind in court. Then... the scissors.

Now that Julio is out of prison and on the run, I suppose there's no point in defending him. But that feeling in my gut is still there. I need to get to the bottom of this no matter what it takes. And then they'll see... they'll see I'm a real detective..."


Chapter II:


- The Forensics Lab, 3:24 PM -
"No, for the hundredth time, it doesn't match up!" yelled the analyst.
Ports was baffled. There was no way that could be possible. The blood had to be the victim's. Who's else could it have been? One thing was for sure - there was no way to tell for now, as no blood in the database matched up with the blood on the scissors.
Ports left the forensics lab in a haze. Both of his keys to overturning this case were in the gutter. Julio Ramirez has broken out of prison and killed two people. How can my life get any w- He stopped himself. He knew that if he continued to think what he was about to think, his life would definitely get much worse than it was now.
Speaking of that, as Ports turned and headed out of the door to the lab, he bumped into a person he never expected to see so soon again. A certain Cameron Vinson stood in front of him, wearing an expensive looking new beret and sunglasses.
"Where are you going?" snarled Ports. He obviously wasn't in the best of moods.
Vinson hesitated a moment before replying.
"None of your business."
"You know what is my business?" Ports shot back. "Your testimony. Why did you lie in court?"
"I plead the fifth." she replied.
After a moment's silence, Ports decided he'd bring up a new topic.
"So, how'd you afford those new accessories? Paid off for your testimony, huh?" It was a blind accusation, but Ports was willing to do anything to incriminate the woman who ruined him.
Vinsons face went bright red. She immediately looked down.
"That's pretty suspicious behavior, little lady! Care to explain yourself, there?"
"N-no. I mean... It's none of your- leave me alone!"
"You're breaking down, sport. So, care to discuss the details down at the precinct?"
"Y-you're not a detective! You have no right to do that!"
"Even civilians can apprehend criminals. Besides, after I solve this case, I will be a real detective!"
"You can't solve this case." said Vinson with a little more confidence. "Julio Ramirez is dead."
"WHAT!?" cried Ports. "When did this happen? Why don't I know about this?"
"The police shot him down... The story will be on newsstands tomorrow."
"How do you even know something like that?" demanded Ports.
"...I plead the fifth."
"Don't pull this on me!" yelled Ports.
"Don't worry! You'll find out everything eventually. You're way too deep in to make it out of this one without any bruises... Ports." Cameron Vinson's face lightened up.
"What do you know? What aren't you telling me! Tell me now!" Ports was screaming at the top of his lungs, attracting the attention of pedestrians and passing cars. It was no use, Vinson would not talk.
"Hope you're ready for rain." she said, as the faint pitter-patter of raindrops began to escalate down to earth.
Obviously, Quinton Ports was not prepared for rain. He had been too busy rereading the article on Julio Ramirez's escape that morning to care about trivial things like the weather report. As Cameron Vinson walked off into the distance and out of sight, Quinton Ports stood there wallowing in his own rage and frustration, the rain falling harder and harder upon his head.


-Quinton Ports' Apartment, 4:40 PM -

Soaking wet, Ports opened the door to his apartment and got inside as quickly as possible, dripping water all over the floor. After turning on the lights and making his way to the bedroom, he changed out of his drenched garments and into some fresh ones. His hair was still wet, so he went to dry it. He headed on over to the bathroom where he grabbed a towel from the rack and began to scrub.
Suddenly, an ominous aura filled the room. Ports glanced in the bathroom mirror and froze. There was a man slowly advancing on him. A large man, about twice the size of Ports, with a sunken-in face and almost no neck at all. The man was creeping closer and closer, and apparently he hadn't realized that Ports had noticed him. Acting fast, Ports grabbed a box of Kleenex off the counter and chucked it at his assailant. The box bounced right off, doing no visible damage at all. However, it did alert the man to Ports' knowledge of him. The man charged. Ports, either out of fear or plain stupidity, froze.
It didn't really matter in the end, thanks to the large trail of water Ports had left behind. As soon as the man came charging into the bathroom, he tripped over his own feet and crash landed straight on his head with a loud thud. After a few seconds, Ports realized that the man was out cold.
Still in a state of shock, Ports slowly bent down and examined the unconscious man. He was a burly fellow, and wore a large, strangely expensive looking coat. Ports then noticed the knife holstered in the man's belt.
I'm lucky to be alive right now... thought Ports.
Ports checked all the man's pockets only to find lint and some kind of business card. He read the card out loud to himself.
"Ramirez loans and real estate - We get the job done!!"
There was a phone number on the card, but no other information whatsoever. That was strange.
Wait... Ramirez... where have I heard that name before?
It took Ports a few seconds to realize it as the horrible truth dawned over him.
Julio Ramirez... but no, he's dead. According to Vinson, at least. And so is his brother. Supposedly.
Ports' mind was racing for a possible conclusion to this misnomer when all of a sudden a revelation dawned on him. He thought back to his first conversation with Cameron Vinson, in the Salty Swordfish Bar & Grill.
"Well, now that you mention it... they did look a lot alike. Other than their clothes, they almost looked like the same person."
Vinson's exact words. "The same person". There was only one possible explanation for that. Either Pablo or Julio Ramirez had a twin. Meaning there were three Ramirez brothers. The pieces were slowly falling together. The next logical step was to find out the source of the number on the business card, and go investigate. But, first, he had some business to take care of.


- The Grand Judges' Office, 5:21 PM -

Quinton Ports knew he said he'd never come back here, but his cousin, Grand Judge Randolph Esquire III, was the only one he could count on for this sort of thing.
"So... what are these "two very big problems' of yours?" I hope they're not-"
"No."
"I'm surprised you decided to show your face around here, even after you embarrassed yourself in court like that." said the Judge.
"Let's forget about that for now. Along with your... shit." stammered Ports.
"Yes, my shit is-"
"No, I said forget it."
"Well I recently came across a revelation involving my shit. Would you care to hear it?"
"No thanks, I'd rather no."
"Its quite interesting really, I-"
"Really, I don't care. What I do care about is the guy lying knocked out in the trunk of my car."
"You knocked up a guy and put him in the trunk of your car?'
"...Are you doing this on purpose?"
"Yes, yes I am."
"Please take me seriously for one second." pleaded Ports. "I need your help, Randolph."
"Alright, alright, what can I do ya for?"
"I already told you. There's an unconscious man in my trunk."
"How'd he manage to git himself in there, I reckon?"
"Um, he was trying to kill me in my house and he tripped on the wet floor."
"Darn tootin."
"Shut up."
"Scuse me?"
"I told you to take me seriously, not put on some faux cowboy accent crap.
"Alright now son, why don't ya'll take me to this here alleged, 'unconscious varmint'."
"Um, alright."


- Outside the Grand Judges' Office, 5:24 PM -

The rain had cleared up and the weather was now bright and sunny. Ports took the keys from his pocket and turned the lock on the trunk. It opened, revealing the husky man lying cramped inside.
"It took me forever to get him in there." said Ports.
"I reckon I don't care." replied the Judge.
"So what are we going to do about him?" asked Ports.
"Is he armed, I reckon?"
"No, I disarmed him. His knife is back at my place."
"Hmm."
"Hmm?"
"Well, I don't know what to do!" said the Judge.
"What? You're the grand judge, you should be able to help me!" said Ports.
"Help you do what?"
"...Well, I didn't really think about that."
"Exactly. So what we're going to do is, call the police, and they're going to help you, which is what you should have done in the first pla-" Before the Judge could finish speaking, the man in the trunk let out a cry. It was somewhere in between a gurgle and a scream, and it was very, very scary. At least to Ports.
The man hopped out of the car and onto the ground. Everything was happening too fast for Ports to handle. By the time the man had gripped his hands around Ports' neck, there was nothing he could do. He felt the choking grasp of death's sweet embrace as the man squeezed tighter and tighter. As the world around him faded, he could only think of one thing. The feeling of unrest... it was still there. Then everything faded to black.


- The General Hospital, 6:00 PM -

Everything was blurry. Ports wasn't sure if the nurse was talking to him or not. If she was, he didn't know what she was saying. His neck hurt, and it pained him to swallow. He hoped it would go away soon.
After a few minutes, Ports regained his senses. Soon he realized the hospital bed was stiff and uncomfortable, so he got up and stretched. That's when the Judge walked into the room.
"What the hell happened?" demanded Ports.
"Sit down." said the judge.
"How did I survive? Did he get away?"
"His name is Dawkins. Bruno Dawkins. He is currently being held in police custody. You can go talk to him if you want." And with that the Judge left. Ports didn't bother going after him. His answers most likely were to be found with one Bruno Dawkins.
The nurse came walking in just as soon as the Judge left.
"I hope you thanked that man. He DID save your life, after all."
Well, that answered one of Ports' questions. One day he would return the favor. One day.


- The County Jail, 6:49 PM -

Quinton: I'm going to need to ask you some questions, Mr. Dawkins.

Bruno: Bahahahaha! Youse think youse gonna get answas outta me? Bahahahahahahahahahaha!

Q: Considering it might mean a reduced sentence, yes, I do.

B: Da boss don't take kindly ta traitas.

Q: Who is your boss?

B: Bahahahahahahaha! Now why would I tell youse that?

Q: Um, I think I already mentioned something of a reduced sentence.

B: Bahahahahahahahahaha! Youse think I care! Jail is nothin'!

Q: Oh, then I'm sure you wouldn't mind prison either. I could easily get you transfered. And they're basically the same thing, right?

B: W-what? No, I don't want ta go back there! Not prisons! Anything but dat!

Q: Oh, so you'll talk?

B: Nah.

Q: Then you'll go to prison.

B: No!

Q: Well, Mr. Dawkins, I'm afraid its one way or the other.

B: OK, OK, I'll talk. But youse have ta promise me, youse can't tell da boss it was me who was da rat!

Q: Uh, sure.

B: Youse swear?

Q: Yes, I swear.

B: OK. What do youse wanna know?

Q: Who is your boss?

B: He is very mysterious-like. He only communicates to us through phone calls n' such. We don't even know him by any name otha than "Ramirez".

Q: So, your boss IS a Ramirez brother.

B: Whats dat supposed ta mean?

Q: Nothing. So you don't know the first name of your boss?"

B: Nah. We jes' call him "da boss" most of da time anyway.

Q: Why did you attack me?

B: Direct orders from da boss.

Q: Do you know why?

B: We don' question da bosses ordas.

Q: Who is we?

B: We is we.

Q: Are you going to answer my questions or not, Mr. Dawkins?

B: Didn't I already do's that?

Q: ...This isn't going anywhere. I don't think I can get anymore info out of this guy.

B: What is youse doing?

Q: I'm thinking to myself.

B: Bahahahahahahaha! Youse is one weird little guy.


-The County Jail, 7:00 PM -

"So can you run the scan?" excitedly asked Ports, staring anxiously at the computer screen in front of him.
"Well..." began the officer, "...technically, its against regulations, but I suppose just this once."
"Thanks, pal-o!"
"Its... no problem..."
The officer looked at the business card Ports had given him, punched in the phone number on his keyboard, and hit enter. A few seconds later, a 'ding' sound signified the search was complete.
"Let's see here... the name isn't here, but there's an address... 14292 Barren Lane. If my memory serves me right, I believe that 14292 Barren Lane is home to an old abandoned warehouse."
"Sounds like a perfect base of operations for an underground criminal organization." Ports thought out loud.
"Hmm?"
"Thanks for the info... bro."
"...You're welcome?


- Quinton Ports' Apartment, 9:13 PM -

Quinton Ports sat in a chair in his apartment, thinking. It had been quite an eventful day. From the morning he had gotten up, read of Julio Ramirez's escape, gotten the blood on the scissors tested, bumped into Cameron Vinson and learned that Julio Ramirez was dead, gone home and gotten ambushed, went to the Judges' and gotten strangled, interviewed Bruno Dawkins and then found out about the business card he was carrying.
Yes, it had been an eventful day indeed. Then, Ports noticed out of the corner of his eye that the knife he had removed from Dawkins was still lying on the bathroom floor. He got up, walked over and picked up the knife, It was a hunting knife, made for the purpose of killing small animals. Ports decided to keep it. It might come in handy later.





Chapter III:


- The Interstate Freeway, 12:20 -

As Ports cruised down the freeway in his sleek 1971 Mazda RX-2, he could only wonder what lay ahead of him. The news report that morning had confirmed the worst of his fears. Julio Ramirez was indeed dead. And not only that, but he had left behind a mysterious message that only left Ports with more questions.
Before Julio had been shot down by the police he had yelled something very strange. Only two words. "Snug guns." Not even "Don't shoot!", or "Kill me, I have nothing to live for anyway!". Just "Snug guns". Ports had thought about it for hours, and still hadn't come up with any logical meaning for the two words.
Now, he had made up his mind. He was going to 14292 Barren Lane. To face whatever lay ahead of him. Nothing could stand in the way of him becoming a detective. Not even the car that was ramming right into him just then.
Ports honked his horn, and angrily looked in his rearview mirror at the black sports car that seemed to be following him.  What was this guy's problem? He could have killed Ports if he had hit him any harder. Speaking of that, another lurch on the back of the car jolted Ports so hard he lost control of the wheel. Ports spun out of control and hit the curb. Ports, not sure what to do in a situation like this, did the only thing he could do. He quickly regained control and put his foot on the gas. The car zoomed forward, way above the speed limit, and out of the sight of black sports car.
That was a close one... thought Ports to himself just as the black sports car pulled up right beside him. The windows were heavily shaded, Ports couldn't see a thing inside it. He made a sharp right on the exit, but the other car managed to keep right up with him. There were almost no other cars on the freeway, which Ports originally thought was a good thing, but now he wanted to get lost in traffic to avoid this guy.
The black sports car veered to the side and rammed against Ports' Mazda, once again jolting Ports and making him hit the curb. After regaining control, Ports knew he had to do something about this. He thought about it for a second, then slowly started to brake. The black sports car slowed down with him.
After coming to a complete stop, Ports stepped out of the car.
"What's your problem?" Ports yelled.
The black car, which had stopped, remained stationary.
"The hell are you thinking?" Ports yelled, again to no answer.
Then, the door to the car opened, and out stepped a lanky, bald man wearing dark sunglasses.
"Mista Ports. I assume Dawkins was the one who squealed?" asked the man.
Ports didn't respond. Who was this man? Was he another henchman?
"Youse better start talking, right now." said the man, pulling out a silenced pistol.
"Woah, no need for that now. I'll tell you whatever you need to know." said Ports in a panick. How could this guy have the nerve to pull out a gun on Ports in the middle of an open freeway?
"Good. Youse betta start talking. I don't wanna have to waste any bullets. Now was it Dawkins who sqealed or not?"
"Sqealed on what?"
"I'm da one askin' da questions here. Tell me now, or I'll shoot ya's leg."
"No, he didn't squeal."
"Don't lie to me, Ports. Rememba, I'm da one with da gun."
The sound of a blaring siren suddenly sounded in the distance.
"Crap! Da pigs!" The bald man was panicking. "Ports. If youse is thinking of comin' to da warehouse, youse is gonna regret it. I mean, if youse wanna die, then go ahead, come right on in. But if I was youse, I would go home, right now, and forget all of dis eva happened." The bald man then got in the car, closed the door, and drove off.
As the black sports car faded into the distance, the police car that had scared the bald man off drove up next to Ports, who was still standing there in shock. The police car rolled down its window. Ports was surprised to see that sitting in the driver's seat was the officer who had helped him find out about 14292 Barren Lane yesterday. Sitting in the passenger's seat was his cousin, the Judge.
"Hey..." said the officer. "Uh, mind hopping in?"
Ports looked back at his car, which had been banged up a bit.
"Oh, don't worry about that." said the officer. "I'll have my friend tow it and have it repaired for you."
After hesitating a moment, Ports opened the door and got in. He plopped down in the backseat and buckled his seatbelt.
"What was your name again?" he asked the officer as they as they began to drive.
"Perry. Perry Henderson. And you're Quinton Ports."
"And I'm the Judge." said the Judge.
"So what were you guys doing?"
"What? Oh, we were tailing you."
"Why?"
"Me and the Judge are old friends see, we go way back." Perry said, "When I told him his cousin was going to 14292 Barren Lane, he went nuts. He was all like 'No way is MY cousin going to get himself killed by some criminal organization', isn't that right, Randolph?"
"What?" said the Judge. "Sorry, I was too busy doing sudoku to pay any attention to what you just said about what I just said about my cousin."
"Hey." interrupted Ports. "You guys wouldn't happen to know anything about 'Snug Guns', would you?"
"Isn't that what that Julio Ramirez guy said right before he died?" asked Perry.
"Yup. I need to figure out what it means."
"I don't think it means anything. I think he'd gone insane by the time he hit the pen, and by the time he'd escaped he was babbling nonsense. Press is making a big deal out of it cause they think its some sort of secret message."
"Its a palindrome." said the Judge.
"The hell is that?" asked Perry.
"Hey... you're right! It is a palindrome! Snug guns backwards is snug guns!" said Ports.
"Am I good or am I good?" said the Judge.
"You're good alright, but hey, where are we going?" asked Ports.
"To 14292 Barren Lane, of course." said Perry.
"...I thought Randolph didn't want me going there."
"Alone. By yourself, you can't do anything. But I'm a cop, I have a gun, and Randolph is uh, equipped to handle situations like this."
"I'd think sneaking into a warehouse full of armed men would be easier alone."
"...Whatever, you need us. By yourself, you would have been killed the guy in that black car."
"If you say so."
"I do say so. I'm a cop."
Silence encompassed the remainder of the ride.


- 14292 Barren Lane -

"Well, we're here." murmured Perry as the car pulled up along the sidewalk of the old warehouse. It was a grey, foggy morning, but the warehouse could be plainly seen from inside the car. It was a massive building and stretched for acres and acres. There was no visible entrance from the car's position.
It was strange. The entire area was completely deserted. As he stepped out of the car, an eerie chill went down the back of Ports' spine.
"So what's the plan?" whispered Perry.
"I dunno? You tell me!" whispered back Ports.
"You're the one who told us to come here!"
"I didn't make you come anywhere! You drove me here of your own free will!"
"I was trying to help you out! I thought you'd at least have a plan!"
"Shh!" said the Judge.
Perry and Ports stopped arguing.
"What is it?" whispered Ports.
"I hear something." said the Judge.
Before anyone could react, an explosion rocked the ground, knocking Perry and Ports off their feet. Looking behind them, they could only see the remains of Perry's car. A steaming pile of rubble.
"SHIT!" yelled Perry, giving away their position. Gunfire immediately rang out from an unidentifyable location.
"Get down!" yelled the Judge.
Ports got down and lay flat on the ground. Perry didn't listen. He pulled out his pistol and starting firing randomly into the fog.
"I'll kill all of you m-" He never finished his sentence. A spray of bullets hit Perry's chest. He fell over, splattering blood all over the sidewalk.
Ports' couldn't believe what he was seeing. Perry murdered in front of his very eyes. Before he knew it, shadows began to descend upon the Judge and him. Everything went black.


- Location: ???    Time: ??? -

Bound and gagged, Ports sat there in that dark, grimy, desolate room. His ankles were tied together by a rope along with his wrists. This was probably the most uncomfortable he had ever been in his life. And he had a feeling it was about to get even more uncomfortable.
The door in front of him slammed open and in walked an entourage of gangsters. In the lead was a mustachioed man, who looked to be of hispanic origin. He wore a business suit identical to the rest of the men who followed him. The last in line was none other than Cameron Vinson, carrying what appeared to be the corpse of Perry Henderson.
Ports attempted to yell out "You bitch!" but due to the gag, the only thing that came out was "Mmmph ggmpph."
"Got something to say?" said the mustachioed man. Ports looked at the man. No... it couldn't be... Not him...
The mustachioed man beckoned at a gangster. The gangster didn't hesitate to rip the gag out of Ports' mouth. Ports coughed and sputtered. The mustachioed man laughed.
"Mr. Ports. Didn't your mother ever teach you to keep to your own business?" he said in a deep, evil-sounding voice.
"I thought it was 'mind your own business'." replied Ports.
"Don't get smart now. Remember, we can kill you any time we want. Now, it looked like you wanted to say something about my girlfriend. Am I right?"
Ports' jaw dropped. Girlfriend? Cameron Vinson and... No, no, no. That was impossible. Well, actually, it kind of made sense if he thought about it. Where else would she get the money for all those berets?
"Well, do you have something to say or not? I'm curious!" said the mustachioed man with a devilish smile.
"No, I don't. But I have something to ask you... Mr. Ramirez." replied Ports, cooly.
"Oh, so you've figured it out already!" said the mustachioed man with a little laugh. "Yes, I am who they call Ramirez. In fact..." He put his hands to his face. Ports was confused at first, but when he ripped off his mustache, Ports could see clearly. He could now plainly see the face of his captor. It was Julio Ramirez's face, no doubt.
"Julio! I thought you had been shot down by the police!"
"A ruse."
"But... but... what about all that work I was going through to defend you?"
"Mr. Ports..." he began as he put the mustache back on his face, "I'm afraid you've stuck your nose in too deep." He put his mustache back on. "There are certain things that you'll never understand. Like the meaning of life."
Cameron Vinson bumped in.
"Uh, he's waking up." she said, pointing to what Ports had thought was Perry's dead body.
Perry coughed up a handful of blood. Nobody seemed to notice besides Ports as he slowly reached for his police communicator. Ports decided now would be a good time to distract everyone.
"So you were in on it the whole time?" he said, looking at Vinson.
"I don't think you need to know that." she replied, solemnly.
"Um... but, what about, your... uh... how about... why..." Ports turned a bright red as he tried to think of something to say.
"You know, I thought it was kind of cute, you pretending to be a detective. At least at first. Interviewing me, and everything. It really was funny, but you took it way too far, Ports." said Vinson.
"Call... for backup..." sputtered Perry, lying on the ground, police communicator in hand.
"What the hell is this?" yelled Julio. "You morons didn't even disarm him?"
The group of gangsters looked at each other nervously.
"Well, maybe if you all weren't MENTALLY RETARDED you would kill him already!" he yelled furiously, cocking his gun. Two gunshots rang out. Perry dropped his communicator. The communicator now had a bullethole straight through the center of it.
"Now who's the moron who didn't disarm him?" he said, pointing his gun at the mass of gangsters, all lined up.
"Was it you?" he asked, pointing his pistol at a random gangster's head.
"No suh. Wudn't me."
"Did I tell you that you could talk back?" Bang. The pistol went off, point-blank. Chunks of the gangster's brain were blown across the wall.
"Well now boys, it seems we have ourselves a problem. The police have come to wreck our fun." Julio looked back at Ports. The gangsters looked on edge. Vinson looked worried.
"What is we gonna do abouts dis guys, boss?" asked a gangster, pointing at Ports.
Julio hadn't taken his eyes off of Ports. He didn't say anything to the gangster.
"Cameron, grab the safe and head out of here to base." Vinson nodded and headed out the door.
"I'll need four volunteers to take care of Ports."
Initially, nobody did, but slowly and surely, four volunteers raised their hands.
"Good. The rest of you, come with me."
The rest of the gangsters followed Julio outside the room, leaving Ports alone with the four men.
"This is gonna be fun." said one gangster in a whiny, high pitched squeal.
"I sure do love torture." said another gangster in a monotone voice.
"Hey guys, I wanna be da one ta kill him!" said another gangster in baritone.
"Hey." said the Judge.
"Hey, whose is dis guy?"
"Yeah, whose is he, anyways?"
"Yes, he was never a part of our crew."
The judge winked at Ports, then proceeded to roundhouse kick all three gangsters at the same time. They all were out cold with one blow.
After untying Ports, the Judge helped him up.
"We need to get out of here, fast." said the Judge. He was wearing the same suit and tie as the other gangsters, and was almost indistinguishable from them.
"How did you-" began Ports.
"After Perry was shot, I went and hid behind some trash cans. I'm sorry I couldn't save you sooner. But anyway, I knocked out a guard and stole his clothes, and managed to get in here."
"Perry's dead... but at least he managed to call for backup." muttered Ports
"Its not gonna do much good now. Everyone's gone, and I don't know where they're going."
"We have to follow them!"
"Not gonna happen. We don't have a car."
"We can hijack one. I'm sure they have plenty in their garage."
"That would make US criminals."
"Its for the greater good, ya know... bro?"
"I suppose." The Judge pondered it for a second. "Well, we better get going."


- The Basement -

After making their way through the abandoned warehouse, Ports and the Judge descended the stairs to the basement garage. The first thing Ports saw was Cameron Vinson, loading some sort of large metal box into the trunk of a sleek black sports car, identical to the one that had chased down Ports. Other than that, the garage was deserted.
"Hey, Vinson!" yelled Ports. Vinson didn't acknowledge him. She continued to attempt to fit the box into the trunk. Ports and the Judge walked forward until they were close enough to see the object Vinson was handling. It was a safe, like Julio had mentioned.
"Hey there, you two." she said, still not looking up.
"You're not surprised we escaped?" asked Ports.
"Not at all. In fact, I'm the only reason you're still alive right now. I kept your cop friend alive long enough for him to signal for radio backup."
"What? Why would YOU help me?"
"You really don't get it?" she said. "I've been helping you all along. Everything I've said to you has lead you to where you are now. Think about it."
Ports thought back. His first encounter with her, the interview. She seemed to be blissfully unaware back then, but then again, it could have been a facade. It must have been.
"I've already given you the clues. Its up to you to solve the mystery." she said.
"When I bumped into you outside the forensics lab, was that truly a coincidence?"
"Not at all."
There was much more to Cameron Vinson than appeared at first glance. Could she truly be an ally?
"I've got to get out with this safe, I'm afraid you two can't come along for the ride." said Vinson solemnly.
"I need more information. Please." pleaded Ports.
"Just remember..." said Vinson as she slammed the trunk. "I've already given you all the information you need." She then opened the door the driver's seat and got in.
"... There's a car waiting for you down at the end of the hall. I have to report back to G- the boss, in a bit... I can't stick around much longer. So long." She shut the door, turned the keys to the engine and drove off and out of the garage.
The Judge finally spoke.
"Do you have any gum?"
Ports was shocked.
"This is hardly a time to ask about gum! We need to get in that car and follow Julio Ramirez!"
"Are you sure he really is Julio Ramirez?"
"Um... well... yeah, I guess?"
"Think about what Ms. Vinson just told you."
"Well... she told me to think about what she told me."
"Yes. And?"
"Well, the only important things she told me were some evidence about Julio Ramirez."
"And what were they?"
"That... Julio Ramirez was shot down by the police... but Julio himself said that was a ruse!"
"Are you sure he wasn't lying? Think harder."
"Well... Vinson also told me about there being... someone who... looked exactly like... a Ramirez brother... my God... that must be it! The twin of Julio Ramirez!"
"It took you long enough. So do you have gum or not?"
"No."
"Let's get going, then."
They ran down the empty garage until the car Vinson had mentioned. It was yet another black sports car. The door was unlocked, so Ports and the Judge hopped right in, Ports in the driver's seat. The first step of following Ramirez was getting out of this garage. Ports grabbed the keys, which were conveniently lying right on the dashboard, put them in, and turned them. The engine roared. Ports put his foot on the gas, and they zoomed off.

- The Interstate Freeway, 3:55 PM -

The chase was on. Ports speeded down the busy freeway, twenty miles over the speed limit. On the lookout for any other black sports car, he kept his foot pressed hard on the gas.
Suddenly a siren sounded. The police had arrived. The entire force, it seemed. Perry's distress signal must have gone through. They must have thought he was one of them, due to the fact that he was driving one of their cars. There was no stopping now. He would have to explain later. He kept pressing on. He prayed he wouldn't crash, and that he would find Gerardo and the gangsters soon. The Judge seemed bored, despite the tension.
"This is the police. Pull over." crackled a voice over the blaring siren. No way in hell he was pulling over now.
Ports made a slight right and saw it. An entourage of black sports cars. He accelerated as much as he could... and- he was right behind the last one in line.
He had finally caught up. Now the only problem was losing the pigs. Or so he thought.
Suddenly he found the black car in front of him had lined up with him, and was right next to him. Then, another black car had lined up to the left of him. Suddenly he had been surrounded on all sides by black sports cars. The police were the least of his worries now. The gangsters were cornering him.
There was only one way out of this. On a busy freeway, being chased by cops, and surrounded by four cars on all sides, there was only one option.
"Don't do it." muttered the Judge, but Ports had already slammed his foot on the brake.





Chapter IV:


- The Interstate Freeway, 4:01 PM -

"Quinton! Quinton, wake up! Get ahold of yourself!"
Who was talking? What was going on? Everything was happening in slow-motion. The last thing he remembered was hitting the brake... then jolting forward and hitting his head on the steering wheel...
Ports looked around. It seemed he had caused something of a traffic jam. Looking, in his rearview mirror, he saw the back of his car was completely totalled.
"How did that happen?" he asked the Judge.
"You braked in front of one of those gangster's cars?"
"Oh yeah... where did they all go, anyway?"
The doors to Ports' car suddenly opened, and in reached a couple of greasy hands that angrily ripped Ports and the Judge out of their seats and down onto the pavement. Bright sunlight filled Ports' eyes and blinded him.
"Youse think youse can escape from our establishment, steal our vehicles, then crash 'em an' get away wid it?" grunted a thug. "Youse betta think twice!"
The thug kicked Ports as he struggled to get up.
"Holds them". said a voice. Ports recognized it. It was that bearded gangster that he had encountered on the drive to 14292 Barren Lane. A mob of gangsters, gathered in the street, had gotten out of their cars, apparently to witness the execution of Ports and the Judge. The gangsters moved in, closer and closer. The police were nowhere in sight.
"Wait!" yelled Ports. "I challenge Mr. Ramirez to a one-on-one fight!"
"That's da funniest thing I've heard all day." scoffed the bearded gangster. "What kind of fight do youse propose?"
"I propose a duel of knives."
All the gangsters burst out laughing simultaneously.
"I'll tell youse what, sport. If youse can beat me... I'll let youse fight da boss."
Ports knew he needed to buy some time, and if the only way to do that was by a duel of knives, then so be it.
"Are you sure about this, Quinton?" asked the Judge.
"Its the only way." replied Ports.
"You've never been in a knife fight in your life. Do you even have a knife?"
"Yeah. They were too stupid to disarm me when they captured me."
"Well then... good luck... amigo."


- The Interstate Freeway, 4:10 PM -

The gangstered had formed a circle around Ports and the bearded gangster, who apparently was named Jed.
"Get 'im Jed!"
"Youse can't lose!"
The traffic jam was getting worse. Vehicles were honking nonstop, The Gangsters had formed a roadblock in the middle of the freeway. The police were nowhere to be found.
The Judge was being held by four thugs. Ports stood on one end of the circle, Jed on the other.
"So how are you going to let me fight Ramirez... if I kill you in this knife fight?" asked Ports, just realizing this contradiction.
"Good question." said Jed. Truth is, I was never plannin' on it. I was just gonna kill youse and save my boss some trouble."
Ports didn't respond. He knew something like this was bound to happen. With no hesitation, he unsheathed Bruno Dawkin's knife from his pocket and began twirling it around like a pro.
"Where'd you learn how to do that?" asked Jed, not looking intimidated.
"Practiced with pencils in school."
Then there was silence. It seemed like all the car horns stopped, all the gangsters stopped talking, like time itself froze.
Then it began. They began to circle each other. Ports held the knife with a saber grip, while Jed held his like a hammer. They reeled in close, a little too close for comfort. Ports made a swift jab, but Jed parried. He was good. Then suddenly Jed was coming down fierce. Ports dodged the blow, but barely. They danced back to the corners. The gangsters gazed on in awe.
They came closer, and closer still, until Ports suddenly came flying in with a rapid-fire attack. Each jab was aimed to kill. Jed could barely keep up. The last of the blows scathed his shoulder, cutting his leather jacket.
"Youse will pay for dat." muttered Jed, wiping the blood off his shoulder.
Jed came rushing in with a fierce strike. Ports knew there was no way he could dodge this one.
"No!" yelled the Judge as Jed's knife came crashing down upon Ports.
Blood spurted out and spilled down Ports' wound.
"That really hurts." gurgled Ports. He looked down at his arm, where Jed's knife lay protruding.
A siren suddenly sounded. Every head turned in its direction. The police had arrived.
"Looks like your party's about to get crashed." said Ports.
"Kill them!" said Jed, pulling out his gun. "Kill them both!"
"Sorry, Jed. Can't let you do that." said Ramirez, pointing his pistol to the back of Jed's head.
"But... boss... I was... I was youse... most loyal..." Those were his last words.
Jed fell to the ground, the inside of his head no longer existant. Ramirez stepped over his corpse, staring down at the wounded Ports and the captive Judge.
"I see you've made it this far." he said.
"Yeah, I have... Julio. Or is that your real name?" said Ports.
"So did that bitch already spoil everything for you? Or did she leave out the juicy parts?" chuckled Ramirez.
"Wh- How did you know?"
"Oh, trust me, I know a lot more than you give me credit for. For example, I know that Vinson's run off with my safe."
"But... why?"
"Hahahahaha! Because she's a thieving whore? She must take me for a fool." bellowed Ramirez.
"This is the police. We have you surrounded. Drop your weapons at once." came a voice from a loudspeaker.
Ramirez fired three shots into the air.
"Come get me if you want me, pigs!" he yelled. He turned his attention back to Ports.
"Get that safe back. I'll trust you'll do that for me. If you don't, I'll kill you, and your friend." he said, looking at the Judge. And with that, he signalled with his hand, and every thug moved out and back into their cars. It all happened so fast it was like a dream. Before he knew it, every black sports car had vanished.
That's when the police decided to actually show up. The only ones on the scene were Ports and the Judge as the police stormed the area.
"Down on the ground! On your knees!" yelled a cop.
"But we-"
"Now!"
Ports and Judge got down on their knees. The police were moving in on them, when someone shouted.
"Wait. These guys aren't them."
"Duh." said Ports. "Ramirez and his men already made off."
"We know. We were waiting for them to do that so we could move in." said a cop.
"You WHAT? You didn't realize we were being held hostage?"
"Uh... no?"
Ports was swelling with rage. He didn't have any time to express it, because just then, another cop yelled something from a few yards away.
"Hey guys, look, a dead guy!"
"Hey, he's right." said another cop. "Looks like one of those gangsters got shot in the head."
"Yeah." said Ports. "Ramirez did it. He has a tendancy to kill his underlings."
"Who is this Ramirez guy you keep talking about?" grunted another cop, shoveling a donut in his mouth.
"Um, he's the leader of all these criminals?"
"Oh." said yet another cop. "Well, I guess we better go chase him..."
"No. We don't want to get ourselves killed. If we wanted to do that, we would have gone in and busted up all these thugs a couple ago when we could have."
"Good point."
"You guys are the worst cops I have ever seen." said Ports.
"You're right. We're terrible cops." said a cop. "But we get paid. And isn't that what its all about? Money, I mean."
"I'll have to think about that one." said Ports, getting up off his knees. The Judge followed suit.


- Quinton Ports' Apartment, 5:36 PM -

"I can't believe those cops." remarked Ports to the Judge, who didn't respond. They had managed to hitch their way home after Ports convinced the Judge to come with him back to his apartment. The knife embedded in Ports' arm had been tugged out and bandaged courtesy of the police. At least they did something right. Ports felt he should be grateful, but then again, they had failed in so many other ways it was unbelievable. Ports hoped he would never have to deal with them again.
As they stepped out of the car and onto the driveway of Ports' apartment, Ports noticed something odd. Something that he definitely didn't want to see so soon again. A black sports car, parks in the driveway of the apartment. He looked at the Judge, who didn't look back.
On alert, Ports and the Judge made their way up the stairs to Ports' floor. They had made it to Ports' room. Cautiously turning the knob, Ports let the door slide open. Anticipating an ambush, he tip-toed inside the unlit apartment.
The judge walked right in and flicked on the lights.
"What the hell? Don't you realize th-" began Ports.
"Don't worry about it." said the Judge.
"What do you mean, don't worry about it? Of course I'm going to worry about it, I-"
Then, Cameron Vinson walked into the room from the kitchen.
"There you are." she said.
"Vinson! You have some explaining to do!" yelled Ports.
"Quiet down." she said. "Did anyone follow you?"
"No. I mean, I don't think so."
The Judge shut the door to the entrance to the apartment and locked it, leaving him, Ports, and Vinson alone inside.
"I'll explain everything I know. I'm sorry I couldn't before. It's complicated. I just needed to escape before I did."
"So, do you want to explain from the beginning, or what?" asked Ports.
"Sure. Why don't we all sit down?" said Vinson.
They all found chairs to sit down in, and Vinson began her story.
"Ports. There is only one reason I'm about to tell you all this. Its because I'm sick of that pig. He kills his own men, and treats me like a dog. Now... essentially, everything boils down to a certain safe. Which I happen to have in my possesion. I've been Gerardo's girlfriend for as long as-"
"So his name is Gerardo?"
"Yes. He is the eldest Ramirez brother, by one hour."
"So he is Julio's twin, then? Just checking."
"Yes. The Ramirez's have a long a dark history. And everything you've gone through, Ports, has to do with the history of the Ramirez family."
"So who are the Ramirez's, exactly?"
"The Ramirez family USED to be one of the most established jewelers in the world. Now they are nothing more than a petty crime syndicate, run by Gerardo."
"Did Julio or Pablo have any part in the crime organization?"
"Julio did, I don't know about Pablo. Pablo was always the weird one."
"How do you know all of this again?"
"Like I said, I've known Gerardo for years now."
"So the daycare thing is just a cover-up?"
"Yes. So my relatives don't get suspicious."
"But how did you get to know him?"
"That doesn't matter."
"What does matter, then?"
"Gerardo, Julio, and Pablo were brothers. Julio and Gerardo were always the closest, you see. Pablo was usually left out of the group. But they

[Gerkinman]

Put some cock jokes and titties in there and youve got yourself a masterpiece.

[Philip K Dick]

Put some cock jokes and titties in there and youve got yourself a masterpiece.

try reading it

[Gerkinman]

I did, was interesting.

"Julio Jose Trinidad Ochos Nueves Cinco de Mayo El Dia de los Muertos Nacho Burrito Taco Enchilada Supreme Deluxe Combo Meal Ramirez" is quite possibly the coolest name ever.

Regardless, My only concern is whether you can pick up the story where you left off and continue to write it at the same pace. I know alot of people tend to have trouble when they get back into an older project.

[Philip K Dick]

yes that is a legitimate concern, but ill try my best if i feel motivated!!

[SHADOWFOX2]

Hey, now this is an interesting story! I'm not sure where the fecal comments came from, but this is really good.
You should keep on, you've got me too interested. I hope all those silly names infront, inbetween, and behind his name aren't clues.
I've tried to piece some stuff together, but I haven't been able to just yet. The answer's not here yet already is it? More plz

[Philip K Dick]

ok im done with chapter 2

i need to type it up though

[Philip K Dick]

edited original post

with chapter dos!

[wps]

what the hell is a dectective

also i didnt bother to read the story

[Philip K Dick]

ok

[wps]

oh you changed it into "detective" you cunning bitch you

[Philip K Dick]

only a dumb swede like wps would make a big deal out of a spelling error like that

[wps]

well i considered it to be essential and important etc.

[Philip K Dick]

because youre swedish

[wps]

calling people swedish is rude ):

[Philip K Dick]

done!

[sQueef]

okay I just read that whole shit cuz you asked me to. There are just a few spelling, grammatical errors that you could find and fix by yourself if you would just use a fuckin spell check because I can't be assed to go find them. Moreover, it was intricately detailed and I can see that you obviously spent a lot of time writing this, and there was quite a lot of witty banter and humor in here. Personally, I feel let down by the ending as I was hoping the Judge would do something amazing and badass, that Ports would have knocked Marino out again and made off with the diamond, that Ramirez would have gone out in a fiery hell blaze of gunfire or some such thing. But nevertheless, it was entertaining and fun to read at the least, though it may not have been perfect or serious nor masterfully written and such details... It was pretty good. Definitely funnier than I was expecting you've got a good sense of humor and it shows in this story.

I'd give it an 8/10 bro

[Philip K Dick]

thanks i deeply appreciate the feedback broski!