PART TWO“Well, I’m pretty sure that TOM’s going to live,” said Downsizing Doc, loading up her medical bag.
The medical professional had met Jack Sh*t, Fat Daddy and Tricia at the League of Extraordinarily Fat Gentlemen headquarters, a 25-story tower in downtown Obese City. She had just finished examining the bloodied body of TOM, one of the League’s founding members.
“Why were you stabbing him in the chest and guts with a Bowie knife?” asked Jack.
“Ummmmm,” said Downsizing Doc, darting her eyes. “I was checking for internal injuries.”
“And why’d you have to hit him in the crotch with that hammer a dozen times?” asked Fat Daddy.
“Testing his reflexes,” said the doc. “Look, I don’t have all day to stand around and answer a bunch of silly questions. He’ll be okay in a few weeks.”
The doctor exited the headquarters, and Tricia started gathering her things.
“Well, I’m off for my dentist appointment,” she said.
“Isn’t tonight trivia night?” asked Fat Daddy.
Tricia shot him at glance that might have struck dead a lesser man.
“That’s okay, Tricia,” said Jack, deep in thought. “You can leave early.”
“I’ll come in late tomorrow to make up for it,” said Tricia, gathering her things and walking out quickly.
“Fat Daddy, I think somebody was trying to kill TOM,” said Jack.
“Ya think?” smirked Fat Daddy. “Look at all this blood.”
“I’m alright,” moaned TOM. “It was… it was…”
At that point, TOM passed out.
“Damn,” said Jack. “It sure would have been convenient if TOM had stayed conscious long enough to tell us who his attacker was.”
“Now,” said Fat Daddy. “All we have to do is figure out who would have wanted TOM out of the picture. This calls for a little detective work, Jack. Jack? Jack?”
FD turned around to see that Jack was suddenly decked out in a full Sherlock Holmes outfit, complete with magnifying glass.
“Have no fear, Fatson,” said Jack. “Sh*tlock Holmes is on the case!”
“Who the f*ck is Fatson?” frowned Fat Daddy.
“I know who the would-be killer is,” said Jack.
“You’re going to do another one of those cliffhanger dealies, aren’t you?” asked Fat Daddy.
“Indubitably, Fatson” remarked Sh*tlock. “Indubitably.”
TO BE CONTINUED…
even later this afternoon
even later this afternoon
Fatson? I am Fatson? I get to be Jack Sh*t's Sideshow Bob. I think that might be an honor...I think.
ReplyDeleteAll I have to say is ... who WOULDN'T want TOM to be dead? I mean, c'mon.
ReplyDeleteYea I'm with jogging auburn lol.
ReplyDeleteBoo to cliffhanger endings! Can't you see that I'm sitting here bored at work and I need to know the ending! Grr! ^.^
ReplyDeleteOK so I am thinking that I cant wait for another part of this story that will certainly end with another cliffhanger! But I have to say this is too good not to continue on for several blogs! Just think if you were super heros Fat Daddy could use his handy dandy stolen seat belt extender as a weapon!
ReplyDeleteI'm thinking you are going to have quite a few suspects!
ReplyDeleteNow you're just being mean. hehehe
ReplyDeleteI only know you and Tricia, but this is still funny. I'll be checking back tonight for the next installment. :)
ReplyDeleteBah! Give us answers! It's really kind of depressing that I'm just sitting around, wasting time on the internet, waiting for the conclusion to this.
ReplyDeleteIf the next installment is posted during The Biggest Loser time, I'm going to be in a world of hurt what with all the attempting to divide my attention stuff.
ReplyDelete...and the saga continuessssssss...stay away from the fridge jack!
ReplyDeleteI think Fitcetera did it.
ReplyDeleteYou have too much time on your hands!!!!!!
ReplyDeleteThank god. Enjoyed the read :)
Well, you know I didn't do it!
ReplyDeleteThe suspense makes me want to eat a cookie.
ReplyDeleteI bet it's me. I get blamed for everything around here!
ReplyDelete