63rd Street – Part I

There is a sensation to touch. An inescapable feeling that sends a billion signals to the brain and sends us to our knees, overwhelmed with the touchness of it all. I experienced touch once. And taste. And that other thing. I don’t remember if I experienced memory or not. It’s been awhile. For you see, I was mortal once. Just like you. And not quite like you, because you’ve got maybe six months — tops. Oh fuck, you didn’t know? Shit, shit, I’m sorry. I’m sure they’ll find a cure. In less than six months. And I’ve never been wrong before.

Anyway. The story I’m about to tell you has absolutely nothing to do with me. I’m not in it. Hell, I wasn’t even there. I’m there now, but that hardly counts, does it?

So there’s this guy named Tommy Wiseau, and this Decepticon named Shockwave…

63rd Street

Our story starts in a city. They were once gleaming complexes of buildings and Starbucks and parking garages. Monuments to man’s monumental manliness. Tommy and Shockwave worked in this city. They were laywer-surgeon-cops assigned to an elite squadron who solved only the most complex and bizarre crimes. They did not, however, live in the city. Shockwave had always wanted to start a farm, and somehow convinced his partner to live with him in the country even though Tommy hated it. Their commutes were the stuff of legend and song, but not this legend, and I will not be singing.

Our story starts — like most of these stories do — with a dead body. Or in this case, a pile of dead bodies.

“Oh hi, pile of dead bodies!” said Tommy Wiseau to the pile of dead bodies as the pair arrived on the scene. Shockwave, never one for words, just set to scanning the pile of dead bodies with his super-advanced cybernetic optics and so forth. Within moments, he had come to a grim and confusing conclusion.

“These 43 bodies are all dead. 8% is missing from each one. They are also all clones of the same caucasian male.” Shockwave monotoned in an effete semi-British accent.

Wiseau clumsily adjusted his crumpled, ill-fitting suit as he processed these startling facts. “But clones of who, I wonder to myself?”

“The subject is unknown. And the whereabouts of the absent amount of dead body is unknown as well. ”

“Dammit, Shockwave! And all I wanted from this coffee shop was a medium hot chocolate and to turn down what I am told is very good cheesecake. Now we have to be solving the crime.” Wiseau slumped his shoulders, but it was hardly noticeable under his customary three-sizes-too-big suit jacket.

Shockwave turned suddenly, pointing his gun-arm at an employee fleeing out the front door. “A witness! Seize him!”

Wiseau leapt into action, diving across a counter, rolling to his feet and dashing off after what was now a suspect. Wiseau’s lumbering, clumsy gait was unaccountably fast, and he overtook the frightened barista in no time, tackling him to the ground face-first. “Oh hi, criminal!” Wiseau exclaimed.

“Oh shit, no! I didn’t have anything to do with it, I swear! When I opened up this morning, the bodies were there! I freaked out…locked up!”

Wiseau sat up and eased off a bit. “Tell me your secrets. Why didn’t you call the police?”

“Fuck, man…I just been sitting in there all curled up for an hour with a pile of dead bodies in the room. The only thing close to a thought going through my head was Maybe the next time I look the bodies will be gone…

Shockwave and Wiseau on the Streets

“Mmm.” Wiseau hauled the man to his feet as Shockwave strolled up, tuning something on his gun-arm. “You understand we can’t have you leaving town just yet.” Shockwave pointed his gun-arm, and a pillar of energy enveloped the suspect before both disappeared in a flash of light.

“Aww, Shockwave! He wasn’t the killer! Why did you have to bridge him to Holding?”

The big purple robot stared impassively at his partner for a few moments. “You are too trusting, Thomas. Regardless of his culpability, the suspect must be detained according to protocol. We are also late for our trial/operation. As you recall, we are prosecuting a local crime lord while performing risky brain surgery on our star witness as she testifies.”

Wiseau threw up his hands and started walking toward their car, Shockwave falling in behind. “You are too serious all the time, Shockwave! Another boring day in court/surgery when we could be out solving this mystery…”

“I secured the crime scene with an energon barrier. The mystery will remain when our duties have concluded.”

“Oh, all right,” Wiseau gave in as he got behind the wheel of his Mazda RX-8 and Shockwave crammed in uncomfortably next to him. “But at least tell me, friend, what was the 8% missing from the bodies?”

Shockwave turned his implacable yellow eye. “The heads, Thomas. The heads were missing.”

To Be Continued...

One thought on “63rd Street – Part I

  1. Pingback: Streets, Stars, Dreams, and Dreama | Rhoades to Madness

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