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Sigfile Follies enters the half-baked realm of hardboiled detective fiction.
The Mailtease Pigeon
(Segment 1)
Sham Spayed walked up to the frosted glass window that proclaimed
"Spayed and Neutered, Detectives", he inserted his key and opened
the door.
"Good Morning Sham", the sweet voice of his secretary Miss Remon,
greeted him,
"Mornin' Effie. In early are you?"
"It's Ten o'clock Sham.'
"Oh, well that's early to me."
One of the joys of being boss was making your own hours, it was
almost like being a grad student. Sham sat down at his desk and
started thumbing through the mail. Aside from the lemon detergent
sample and his ten million dollar prize winning numbers, Sham noted
a plain white envelope. Using his GINSU letter opener he slit the
length of the envelope and pulled out the letter. Sham could hardly
believe his eyes. "Effie, look at this! There is a book of Spayeds
in America and it says here that I am in it! Of course, they've
misspelled my name, but this offer won't last for long. Make sure
you buy me a ......"
Just then the phone rang.
"Yeah, Spayed here. Uh Huh, Sorry ma'm we don't know where your
dolphin is. What? Well what made you think we were pet dicks?
Try Ventura willya? Yeah well same to you!"
Sham put down the phone.
"Sorry about that Effie. Now what were we talking about?"
"You wanted me to call up the Better Business Beureau and have them
shut down the scam artists who are running the book offer."
"Right! Good girl."
"There's one other thing Sham."
"I'll pay you when we get the dough, this week for sure."
"No, there's a girl to see you."
"A customer?"
"Well, she isn't carrying any Girl Guide Cookies, but you'll want to
see her anyway she's a knockout."
"Send her in."
Effie was right she was a knockout. Tall, Blue-eyed and B.O. that
could stop a mule.
"(COUGH, COUGH) Have a seat Miss....."
"Wonderlyn, Alison Wonderlyn."
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Sigfile Follies enters the half-baked realm of hardboiled detective fiction.
The Mailtease Pigeon
(Segment 2)
Sham looked his client over then reached for the clothes-pin
that was still attatched to one of his socks.
"Dow, mwat tan I do por yew Mizz Bunderlyn?"
"Well", she started, "I don't know where to start, Wednesday I saw
Thursday when I was in the kitchen looking for Dinah, so I followed
this white rabbit and Oh! it's all so confusing."
Just then Miles walked in to the office.
"Hiya partner, I thought.....WHEW! I think it's time
to take out the garbage Sham."
"Myolz Dew-terd, I'd like you to meet Alahzan Bunderlyn."
"Hello Miss Bunderlyn"
"It's Wonderlyn, and I'm charmed, I'm sure."
"Awr Kurzed", Sham said removing the ineffective clothespin.
"What can we do for her Sham? Aside from the obvious that is."
"Apparently Miss Wonderlyn here,came from New York following her
sister Dinah and her boyfriend Thursday. Last Wednesday she ran into
Thursday and followed his white Volkswagen Rabbit."
"Thank heavens you understand", Miss Wonderlyn cried.
"I don't have the faintest idea what's going on, but the plot
reminds me of a movie I once saw."
"So what can we do for you angel?", Miles asked.
"I want to find my sister."
"Why did she come to San Francisco from New York?"
"She got a phone call telling her she had won a Pacific Ocean cruise
through Count Floyd travel, that's Thursday's company. Of course there were
a few hidden charges and amusement taxes that we had to pay. I'm supposed
to meet Thursday tonight and pay him. I was wondering if you could
follow him, and find out where my sister is staying."
Sham looked at Miles.
"I'll have our man Friday tail him." Sham said.
"No, Friday will be too late." Miles replied.
"NO, Friday will follow Thursday."Sham explained.
"Friday always follows Thursday", a confused Alison intoned.
"I meant agent Friday", Sham explained.
"And I'm telling you Friday will be too late" Miles rejoined.
"Today is Friday," Alison tried to comprehend.
"What I meant", Miles continued, "was that Friday is notorious
for showing up late. Don't worry Angel." Miles eyes shined.
"I'll follow him personally."
"I feel so much safer," Alison cooed, batting her eyes.
Miles blushed. Sham inspected the gum on his shoe.
There was a long pause.
"Oh, of course", Alison reached into her handbag, "I'm supposed
to pay you. Will this be enough?"
Alison Wonderlyn laid ten new twenty dollar bills on Sham's desk.
"Of course it will", said Sham scooping up the money a split-second
before Miles could. "And here", he smiled handing her his complimentary
lemon-soap, "Have some parfume, compliments of the house."
And with that she left the two men struggling to open the window.
********************************************************************************
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Sigfile Follies enters the half-baked realm of hardboiled detective fiction.
The Mailtease Pigeon
(Segment 3)
It was late Friday night, possibly Saturday Morning. The bedside
alarm clock read 4:00am. But it always read four am. Sham never bothered
to have it fixed. The phone rang. Sham picked it up.
"Hello", he mumbled in to the receiver.
"Yeah, uh-huh. No I don't read Field and Stream. Special
Introductory price though eh? Sorry not interested. What?
Does Mrs. Neutered want a copy? I'll che....Wait a minute wise guy."
It was too late the caller had hung up. Sam replaced the cradle.
A minute later the phone rang again.
"Listen wise guy I told you I don't want your damned magazine.
What? Oh Miles? No. I don't think he wants the magazine either.
What? Oh it's about Miles. Well I'd buy that magazine. Huh?
It's not a magazine? Oh Miles is dead. How? Uh-huh. Um, you aren't selling
insurance by any chance are you?" The caller hung up.
So Miles had been shot dead outside the hotel. Sham pulled on his clothes
and headed over to the murder scene. The police had roped off the area
and started selling tickets. Sham paid his two bits and wandered over.
"Sham how the hell are ya?"
"Better than some", he replied. He recognized the voice of Jake Gittes
a rival San Francisco detective.
"Now that's what I call a stiff dick." Jake replied.
Sham cringed. Jake's pun reminded him that the morning papers would
be filled with similar horrid headlines.
"Do they have the murder weapon?"
"They think they do. Webley .38, ever seen them things before?"
"No, should I?"
"Guess I got the wrong script."
"That's OK we'll wing it."
"Was he tailing someone Sham?"
"Yeah", Sham replied.
"Was it Floyd Thursday?"
"Yeah Jake, it was, how did you know?"
"Cause your standing on him. How the hell do ya think I know."
"Oops, oh, it's just a chalk outline."
"How do ya like the happy face?"
"Nice touch, that yours?"
"Yeah, I've seen enough, what say we head on over to the cafe and
get a grilled cheese."
"They dont serve grilled cheese at the cafe."
"Ya gotta know how to ask them nice", Jake replied.
********************************************************************************
********************************************************************************
Sigfile Follies enters the half-baked realm of hardboiled detective fiction.
The Mailtease Pigeon
(Segment 4)
It was a short walk to the cafe.
"I don't know Jake. Something doesn't seem right."
"You don't believe her story do ya?"
"I believe her 200 bucks."
"200 BUCKS! Why don't you buy breakfast?"
"Oh, uh it's in my other pair of pants. Anyway like I was
saying something just doesn't fit. It's like there's something
that doesn't belong."
"Yeah," said Jake pulling out his bank card, "something
like an arachnoid or acronym or whatever thay call it."
"That's right, an anachronism." Sham replied.
"Well San Francisco in the 1930's can be a confusing place.", Jake
said pulling his money out of the automatic teller.
"Say how's your brother doing?"
"My younger brother Jake? He's fine. He's at home right now
getting some chick to teach him how to play the piano, if you
know what I mean."
"No", said Spayed, "As usual I don't have a clue what the hell
you're talking about."
"Let me tell ya Sham, I've seen her and I'd rather stick needles
in my eyes."
"I'd heard that."
"So tell me what you think doesn't fit Sham." Jake said as they
passed the McDonald's and headed into the cafe. The waitress
turned down the transistor radio and wiped her hands on her Bart
Simpson t-shirt before bringing over two glasses of water.
"I don't know Jake, but it's probably as plain as the nose
on my face", Sham said as he sipped the Evian water out of his StarWars
collector cup.
Jake opened up a box of Reese's Pieces and started munching on them
while he read the menu.
"Hey where'd you get the candy?"
"Found it in the prop room, why?"
"No reason."
Jake's digital watch started beeping.
"Nuts, there was a show on tv that I wanted to watch. By the way
thanks for the watch you got me for my birthday. It works great."
"Sure Jake, what time you got?"
"Four am."
********************************************************************************
********************************************************************************
Sigfile Follies enters the half-baked realm of hardboiled detective fiction.
The Mailtease Pigeon
(Segment 5)
It was early in the day when Sham stumbled in to his office.
"Hiya Sham, you're in early."
"That's a good idea Effie", Sham said as he headed for the bathroom.
"Sham there's some things you should know."
"I already know Effie," Sham called above the steady pour, " I saw
Miles' body early this morning."
"Miles', body? Then he's dead?"
"Yeah, what were you going to tell me?"
"That's not the bathroom Sham it's the janitor's room."
"When did we get a janitor?"
"He's new. His name is MacBain."
The door opened and a six foot behemoth opened the door.
"Pleezed to meet you Mizter Spayed. You can call me Ahnold.
I vill be your new janitaw."
"You're rather big for a janitor."
"I alzo do houzeverk."
"Lifting?"
"No, vluffing pillows. Livting Ha! Zat's a funny one."
"Right well carry on then."
"Danke, Cheez what iz zat smell comink vrom my offix?"
With that MacBain left.
"Anyway, I am sorry I didn't tell you earlier Effie.
But Miles was shot last night. I need you to tell
his wife Iva, and whatever you do make sure she doesn't
come to....... Why is the light in my office on?"
"That's the other thing I wanted to tell you Sham."
"Oh Sham!", Iva sobbed as she left his office. "This is horrible."
"I'm sorry Iva. I miss him too."
"Miss-shmiss, he didn't have adequate insurance."
"I thought he had that big alumni package."
"Oh Sham, it was only good while he was alive. Did you know they
would have paid me five dollars a day while he was in the hospital?
I should have suspected something when they told him that they
didn't require a physical examination. Oh Sham, this is terrible.
There must be a loophole. Do ya think you could carry his body in to
the hospital and just ditch it in a laundry basket?"
"Look Iva it's been a long day, why don't we take you home and
put you to bed?"
Effie started waving her hands across each other and cutting her
finger across her throat.
"Effie here will take you home."Sham continued.
"Sure I will ", Effie said through her teeth. "Come along Iva."
Sham laughed to himself as he watched Effie drag Iva down to a
waiting cab. He returned to his desk and picked up the morning's paper.
The Sun Headline read: NEUTERED, DICK GETS OFF ONE LAST SHOT.
There was only one thing worse than thinking about a bad pun
and that was seeing it in print.
The front door rattled.
"That was quick Effie." Sham called out, "where'd you dump her?"
"Mr Sham Spayed?", a high pitched voice asked.
"Yes, what can I do for you?" Sham asked the nattily
dressed little man who stood before him.
"Let me introduce myself I am Agnew Spiro."
********************************************************************************
********************************************************************************
Sigfile Follies enters the half-baked realm of hardboiled detective fiction.
The Mailtease Pigeon
(Segment 6)
"Pleased to meet you Mr. Spiro, won't you have a chair?"
"Thank you Mr. Spayed you are most kind."
"Now", Spayed started, "What can I do for you?"
"I believe that you have come into possesion of a small bird.
I am prepared to offer you $5000 for it."
"And what would you say if I didn't have it."
"In that case I would offer you $50 for a 1972 Lincoln-Head penny."
"That's too bad, we did that bit last Thursday."
"In that case", Spiro said pulling out a small lady-like pistol.
"I am going to have to ask you to put your arms up, slowly,
while I search your rooms, especially this fishy smelling room
right here..
WHAM!!! The door slammed in to Mr. Spiro knocking him unconscious.
"Zorry I'm Late Mizter Zpayed do you wand me to vash za vindows
today?"
"No, that's quite all right Arnold, take the rest of the day off willya?"
"Hey for shore you're za bozz."
As MacBain left, Spayed went over to the fallen body of the little man.
He carefully lifted the man's wallet and started searching through his
personal effects. The cash compartment held only about three hundred
dollars in bills. Sham pulled out one of the little man's business
cards, noted Room 635 was entered on a receipt from the Hotel Belvedere,
and inspected an opera ticket for tonight's presentation of Carmen.
"I thought she was in San Diego", Sham thought to himself as he replaced
the wallet in Spiro's jacket.
It was several minutes until Spiro came to.
"Oh my head", moaned the little man, "Do you happen to have
any aspirin?"
"You could try searching for it.", Sham retorted.
"No that won't be necessary."
"Good because I noticed that you only had Three Hundred bucks.
How the hell do you expect to pay me the five grand?"
"You misunderstand me Mr. Spayed, I should have said that
I am prepared to get you five thousand dollars."
"And when I don't have it you pull a gun on me."
"Well, you must understand that the owner wishes to spare
any expense if necessary."
"Well you were wrong on your first guess, I don't have the bird.
Now, what's your second guess?"
"You must know where to find it."
"And when I find it you can pull your gun on me again", Sham noted
playing with the little man's gun.
"I see your point. Perhaps a retainer would help persuade you?"
"Now you're going to try and give me braces?"
"Why would I give you suspenders?"
"Look",said Sham, "how about if you just fork out some dough,
and I'll tell you what I know."
"That seems reasonable. Will $100 do?"
"Better make it two hundred."
"All right there you are. Two hundred dollars. Now tell me what
you know about this business."
"Well,", Sham started looking at the little man's business card,
"When you rearrange the letters in your name it spells: Grow a penis."
"Ooooooh, that Dick Cavett is such a liar!", the little man screamed.
"You were supposed to tell me something about the bird."
"No, I told you I'd tell you all I knew, and that's nothing.
I have no idea where your bird is", he said tossing the little man
his gun back.
"In that case, the little man said, "I am going to have to ask you
to put your arms up slowly, while I search your rooms.
Sam started to laugh. Where was a janitor when you needed one.
********************************************************************************
********************************************************************************
Sigfile Follies enters the half-baked realm of hardboiled detective fiction.
The Mailtease Pigeon
(Segment 7)
In the end Sham thought he had come out ahead in the deal, since Spiro
had managed to find a chocolate Easter Egg that had gone unnoticed.
Spiro however was holding the gun, and he didn't want to leave empty-handed.
Sham waited a half an hour before he left for home. As he ascended
the stairs to his apartment he paused, and checked the sole of his shoe.
It was clean, then he noticed the reason for his concern. Running towards
him was Alison. She ran up the stairs towards him.
"Sham quickly, please take me inside."
Sham ushered her inside the apartment block, taking note whether anyone
aside from his nosy neighbour Gladys Kravitz noticed.
"Well Miss Wonderlyn, or whoever you are I suppose you have some
explaining to do."
"I'm sorry Sham I was just so desperate, I couldn't even tell
you my real name."
"Well normally when people get desperate they take out an ad in
the personals, but obviously you're not a normal person. So tell me
what is your real name?"
"Mary Astor."
"No, your pretend real name."
"Oh, sorry. It's Bridget, Bridget O'Deur."
Sham weighed the initials over in his head. Yes, that seemed
more like it. "So now someone who could be a homicidal maniac is following
you, and you figured you'd bring him here."
"Let me explain Sham."
"Oh you can explain all right, but first I'm going to order a pizza.
I haven't had anything to eat since the start of this serial. I have
some coupons that came in the mail, here's a two for one."
"Don't get that pizza Sham, look at the fine print. Oh sure you get
two pizza's but you get it for one price. Don't you see that they're
taking you for a ride. You can't trust anyone Sham."
"Yes, I seem to be learning that. So how can I trust you?"
"I'll tell you whatever you want to know, just promise that
you'll help me."
"All right. You know the Caramilk bar?'
"I meant about the bird Sham."
"Oh Right, the bird. Um. So tell me about the bird."
"I don't know I've never seen it."
"Oh come on!"
"All right I saw it once. Thursday had it. It's about 16 inches high
and white. It's shaped like a pigeon."
"And you think you know where it is."
"I know who has it, but it will take a couple of days to get it."
"What about Spiro?"
"Have you met Spiro?"
"Of course I have."
"Then we'll have to deal with him."
"Of course. He's at the opera tonight, shall I send for him."
"You'd better order the three for one pizza first."
********************************************************************************
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Sigfile Follies enters the half-baked realm of hardboiled detective fiction.
The Mailtease Pigeon
(Segment 8)
The message was sent. It was several hours before they heard the
clatter of steps on the apartment staircase. Sham opened the door,
Iva stood there in her wedding gown.
"Hiya Sham are you busy? This'll just take a second."
"Geez Iva , what the hell are you wearing that for?'
"You do have insurance don't you Sham?", Iva asked then trailed off as she
noticed Sham was not alone.
"Sorry Sham is this a bad time?"
"Yeah Iva you could say that."
"Who is that woman Sham?", Iva asked
"It's uh, my insurance agent", Sham lied.
"Pleased to meet you I'm Miss O'deur."
"You sure are honey."
"And you are....."
"Iva Neutered"
"That's nice I have a Pekignese myself."
More footsteps approached the apartment.
"Heya Pizza get shore Pizza here. Heya Mac you da one
what order the pizza pie?"
"Yes", said Sham, "it's mine".
"Att'll be a forty bucks."
"Forty bucks? Your ad said it was five bucks for two!"
"No, it said it was a five bucks for a pizza and you get
two for a da price a one. and a looky here, Chico see it's a cut ina
1, 2, say 8 a piezzes. You pay five bucks by eight a piezzes
dat's a forty bucks."
"Can I pay with a forty dollar bill?"
"Sho at'sa fine."
"Well as soon as I find one I'll let you know"
"S'okay if I just wait here for it then?"
"Suit yourself."
"I'll just sit here quietly"
"You do that"
"You won't know I'm here."
"Let's hope so."
"I just play my Kazoo while a I wait.'
DDEEEEEEEEEEEEEDDDEEEEEEEEEEDDDDEEEEEEEEEEEEEDDDDEEEEEEEEEE
It was then that Spiro entered.
"Mr. Spayed, that man outside has been following me and......
What the heck is going on here?"
DDEEEEEEEEEEEEEDDDEEEEEEEEEEDDDDEEEEEEEEEEEEEDDDDEEEEEEEEEE
"Sorry about that, Brigid says she'll give me the bird,
but she wants a third."
DDEEEEEEEEEEEEEDDDEEEEEEEEEEDDDDEEEEEEEEEEEEEDDDDEEEEEEEEEE
"What", said Spiro, "Grease is the word? That she heard?"
DDEEEEEEEEEEEEEDDDEEEEEEEEEEDDDDEEEEEEEEEEEEEDDDDEEEEEEEEEE
"Sham",Gladys Kravitz yelled from her door, "turn your stereo
down. Some of us are trying to sleep."
DDEEEEEEEEEEEEEDDDEEEEEEEEEEDDDDEEEEEEEEEEEEEDDDDEEEEEEEEEE
"I said I'll give you the pigeon if there's someting in it for me."
DDEEEEEEEEEEEEEDDDEEEEEEEEEEDDDDEEEEEEEEEEEEEDDDDEEEEEEEEEE
"Tie a yellow ribbon round the old oak tree?"
DDEEEEEEEEEEEEEDDDEEEEEEEEEEDDDDEEEEEEEEEEEEEDDDDEEEEEEEEEE
Finally the police arrived.
"This is Inspector Drebbin of Police Squ... Say is that
Pepperoni?
"Cheese it, it's the fuzz.", said Chico as he handed the pizza to Spiro.
"All right, Opera boy", Inspector Drebbin called,"come out with
your hams up."
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********************************************************************************
Sigfile Follies enters the half-baked realm of hardboiled detective fiction.
The Mailtease Pigeon
(Segment 9)
It was early Sunday morning before the Inspector let Sham and Bridget
leave. Spiro was kept behind and audited. Sham called the office.
"I'll be in a little later than usual Effie."
"It's Sunday Sham. Your usual is Monday at 10:00am."
"OK well listen do you think your mom could put up
a boarder for a couple of days?"
"Did old lady Kravitz call the cops on you again Sham?"
"Not me, I want her to put up with B.O. for a couple of days."
"And you aren't talking about yourself?"
"A.W.'s real initials are B.O."
"That would explain the Teen Burger."
"Not A&W. I meant Miss Wonderlyn."
"Oh well sure. Listen Sam about Iva."
"I didn't kill Miles to marry her, if that's what you're thinking."
"No, I know that. What I wanted to say was that when I took Iva home
yesterday morning, Friday's paper was still on the doorstep Sham.
She wasn't home the night Miles was killed."
"Well it is Ladies night at the Bowlorama. Anyway give me your mom's
address and I'll send her out. Uh-huh Chinatown eh? That reminds me."
After putting Bridget in a cab, Sham called up Jake Gittes and
started the walk back to his office. Sham walked along the
waterfront. All the nets full of fish kept reminding him of Bridget.
As he walked on, he was accosted by a persistent fisherman at the Wharf.
"AArrgh! Fancy a bit of Fish matey?"the old man asked.
"How about some lovely waffles?", came a high pitched voice that made
Sham stop. The old man had a sock puppet that he was using on
his right hand.
"Join our fish of the month club", the puppet begged. "This month's
special is white-fish."
"Tis true", said the old man. "It has a very high mineral count if you
catch our drift."
Sham didn't.
"How about tickets to Carmen?", the puppet whined
"Sorry Pal not interested."
At that moment Jake Gittes walked up and beat the puppet with
a nine iron, which seemed to deter the old man.
"Hiya Sham", Jake started, "listen I've seen the police report on Miles'
death. It turns out the gun was bought through the mail by an Alek
James Hidell."
Sham rolled that over in his mind while they walked back to his
office. He had heard that name before." It suddenly clicked,
"Miles, that was my partner's name." he cried.
"Right Sham", Jake started as they rounded the corner and
reached Sham's office.
"Oh my God look at that!", Sham interrupted.
Sham stared at disbelief at the Ford's bashed in windshield.
"I can't believe someone would bash a window in with a golf club."
"Look Sham, I'll level with you", Jake continued, "I know what you're
up to, and I'm working for the other side."
"You do?", Sam asked.
"You bet. And when Hallowe'en comes and we all get together for the
ancient ceremony to open or close the gateway allowing the Elder Gods to
return to the Earth, I'll be there. I've even learned how to turn myself
into a wolf."
Sham stared in disbelief.
"That's not what I'm working on."
"It isn't?"
"No."
"Oh!", said Jake, "Sorry about your windshield."
"That's not my windshield Jake."
"Then whose is it?"
"My new janitor's"
MacBain walked out into the road.
"OOOOH! Who haz brokun my kah into tiny bitz? I am goink
to haff to krush him."
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Sigfile Follies enters the half-baked realm of hardboiled detective fiction.
The Mailtease Pigeon
(Segment 10)
Phone calls.
Sham spent the rest of the afternoon on the phone. Iva called
to say that she had hired a lawyer. "Wolfe", Sham recognized the
name from her newspaper ads asking citizens to consult her if they
felt they were the victims of negligence or emotional suffering.
Inspector Drebbin had called to tell Sham that his friend Gittes had
been found with a nine-iron lodged in his throat and did he know
anything about it? PBS had called asking for money.
"Why do you need the dough?",Sham had asked, "TV hasn't even been
invented yet."
"Yes, but with your support we could......"
"CLICK"
The phone rang again.
"Hello. Yes, I'm Spayed.....Yes, I've got it. Who?
MR. McFatmahon. Sure, how about now?..... Twelve-C.
Say fifteen minutes. Great. No, I don't want fries with that."
Twenty minutes later the door to suite 12-C of the Alexandria hotel
was opened by the man Mr.Spiro had pointed out last night. He was heavily
built as if he had been an astronaut or a stunt-man.
Spade entered.
"Thank you Majors, you may go", came the voice of the corpulent man
in the adjoining room.
"Thank you for coming Mr.Spayed you may ne our next big winner", he
said handing Sham a drink. "Please have a seat. Are you ready to
discuss things."
"Yeah"
"Uh huh."
"So"
"Yeah"
The silence continued. Finally Sham spoke.
"Shall we talk about the bird?"
"Ha Ha", McFatmahon came to life, "Yes indeed, you are correct sir.
But first, may I assume you are representing B.O?"
"It depends", Sham said non-comitally.
"On what? Why my good man I can smell B.O. all over you."
"I never touched her", Sham got up to leave.
"Then maybe it depends on Agnew Spiro?", McFatmahon tried to call him.
"Maybe it does.", Sham said retaking his chair.
"Yes sir, you are correct sir. Egad I like a man who can converse
intelligently."
"I understand you know all about the Pigeon."
"Yes sir, you are most correct sir."
"Could you explain it to me?" Sham asked.
"You mean you don't know?"
"Uh, no."
"So Spiro and Miss O'Deur have told you nothing? Ha Ha Ha,
you are quite out to lunch then?"
"Yeah, so if you tell me, then we'll both know."
"No Sir, you are incorrect sir."
"Look you little Maltese milk ball", Sham was indignant,
"This is my town and my story. So, either I'm in it and you pay
me to get the bird, or I'm out and all you get is two weeks of Kafka
parodies. Think about it before you answer."
Sham was about to storm out of the room, when he turned and
looked back at the McFatmahon.
"And another thing, keep your goon off my tail or I'll kick
his butt all the way to Austin."
Then he stormed out of the room and left.
********************************************************************************
********************************************************************************
Sigfile Follies enters the half-baked realm of hardboiled detective fiction.
The Mailtease Pigeon
(Segment 11)
Monday morning Effie walked in to the office and found Sham
stretched on the couch.
"How long have you been here Sham?", she asked.
"Since about four am. I've been waiting for the painter to
change the sign on the door. He'll probably show up the minute I
leave."
"Sham, I talked to my mom this morning. She says that Bridget
never showed up at her apartment."
"What a surprsie." Sham shook his head.
"So is it Ok if my mom rents out the room? There was this fellow
named Monroe who was looking for a place to stay."
"Yeah sure."
Sham brought her up to date on the happenings of the previous
night and sat down to read the newspaper.
"I just don't get it Effie."
"What's wrong Sham"
"This whole thing doesn't make any sense to me."
"Look Sham", Effie explained, "It's obvious that Marmaduke is a BIG dog
and that a BIG dog is not going to fit in a small door."
Sham turned the paper over in disgust. On the back he noticed
an article reporting a gas leak at the Coronet hotel. The gas company
was denying everything. It couldn't have been a coincidence.
An hour later Sham Spayed was dressed in overalls and walking up to the
front desk of the Coronet hotel.
"Hi I'm from the gas company."
"Room 302", the concierge motioned to the stairs and flipped Sham the key
from a safe distance.
Sham turned the key and walked in to the abandoned room. She
had certainly been here, but she was long gone. He emptied the wastebasket.
Folding out the papers he found several National student strike pamphlets,
some coupons for dry cleaning and a note entitled "Things to do".
Underneath the writer had listed "Buy fish, garlic, limburger cheese,
baked beans. Meet Sham Tuesday night.
"Interesting", thought Sham, "I could do with getting my blue suit
cleaned." He shoved the coupons into his pocket and left.
Sam headed back to the office. He had the strange feeling he
was being followed. As he neared the office he ducked around a corner and
waited for his pursuer. Sham bolted out and caught McFatmahon's bodyguard
unawares as he turned the corner.
"Have you been following me punk?"Sham asked the started heavy.
"Of course I have", he said, "Why do you think I've been waving and yelling
Wait up! for the last six blocks?"
"All right punk what do you want?"
"McFatmahon wants to see you. He's going to cut you in."
********************************************************************************
********************************************************************************
Sigfile Follies enters the half-baked realm of hardboiled detective fiction.
The Mailtease Pigeon
(Segment 12)
Back at the Alexandria hotel Sham took in his new surroundings.
He hadn't had time to look around the suite before. There were several
pictures lining the walls, some plants which looked to be grass growing
out of a clay-human shaped head. On a small table Sham noticed a
pewter chess set engraved "Franklin Mint Gangsters of the Thirties."
He picked up the black king, the enscription read "Hoffa". Maybe
Gittes would know what it meant. The whole place seemed to reek of class,
which was alot better than the last apartment he had visited.
"Ah Mr. Spayed", MacFatmahon had entered. "Are you enjoying the
artifacts I have collected?"
"Yes, it's quite a spread you have here."
"Yes sir, you are correct, quite a spread indeed."
"I couldn't help but notice all the lovely pictures you have
on the walls."
"Yes sir", the man chuckled, "I won each and every one of those paintings,
with the exception of Corky over there. I drew him myself."
"You certainly have some artistic talent."
"Thank you sir."
"So, forgive me for asking, but I couldn't help but notice. How come
all those pictures are folded in the middle?"
"Well sir, I admire your gumption in asking. Yes I do sir. You see
it turns out that although I won them I would have had to pay for framing
them and since I was loathe to do that the company sent them to me
in the mail."
"I'm impressed you even got them. I'm still waiting for the
Popsicle Pete beach towel I sent in for. I think it's time
I broke popsicle Pete in half."
"Egad, I am impressed sir. You are a man of action sir. And that
is why I want your help sir. You are certainly the man I need for the
job."
"You're still waiting for your beach towel too?"
"Ha Ha that is funny sir, you are a man of good humour sir and
like I always say a man of good humour is a man....."
"Get to the point tubby, we've only got another week and a half."
"Ah yes, you are correct sir. It seems that I have been unable
to locate something and that you may be just the man who can do it."
"You mean the bird?"
"Yes sir, you are correct sir. I mean the bird."
"And do you want to tell me about this bird or am I going
to have to wait for further updates in the mail?"
"You have a right to know sir. Now, let me tell you about the bird......"
********************************************************************************
********************************************************************************
Sigfile Follies enters the half-baked realm of hardboiled detective fiction.
The Mailtease Pigeon
(Segment 13)
"Have you ever received a letter telling you that you had won a
0.01 carat diamond?", McFatmahon asked.
"As a matter of fact I have. Have you been snooping through my mail?"
"Of course you have sir, and what happened to that letter?'
"My secretary Effie threw it out."
"And did that not bother you?"
"No, I seem to get one every month or so."
"Indeed sir, well then let me tell you that you are not alone."
"You don't say."
"Now what if I were to tell you that this has been going on for centuries?"
"I'd say How the hell did they get my mailing address, when I wasn't
even born yet?"
"No, sir you misunderstand, I mean that other people have been getting
this mail for several centuries."
"Oh well in that case, I'd say that's alot of beans to be doling out."
"Yes, but nobody ever claims them you see."
"Yeah I think I do", Sham lied.
"Now suppose that as a joke one member of a Royal Family was to
circumvent, borrow if you will, his country's mail and accumulate
millions of these awards. Next he writes the sweepstakes committee
and demands his prize."
"It must be good to be the king."
"Yes sir, I suppose it is. Now the monarch of this country decides
to order the Royal Jewellers to take the winnings and shape them into
a giant statue of the official country bird."
"The Pigeon?", Sham asked.
"Exactly. Now he wills the bird to his descendants, but the postal system
being what it is, it is several centuries before the jewels are finally sent.
Also, the Royal family being what it is, has had so many affairs that just
about everyone on the continent and abroad unknowingly has some sort of
claim to it."
"Even me?"
"Probably even you."
"So what happened to the bird?"
"Well it was originally encased in a white enamel to protect it
while it travelled to Amsterdam. Unfortunately, it was mishandled
at the baggage counter and next surfaced on the island of Manhattan
in 1626 where Peter Minuit of the Dutch West India company used it
in bartering for some land. The pigeon was traded back and forth
between neighbouring tribes of aboriginals. Apparently it was given
as a peace symbol, but since wherever it went, the harvest turned
poor, it was soon thought to be cursed. Finally it fell into the hands
of the Huron Indians around 1649. They ignored the curse, dismissing it
as urban folklore. Later in the year they were massacred by the
Iroquois tribe who sensing the curse wrapped it in a beaver pelt
and handed it to the British army. The bird migrated westward still
wrapped in the pelt until it was found circa 1670 by a member of the
Hudson's Bay Company, who assuming it was a returned product refused
to accept it, thus setting down a precedent for their return policy,
and mailed it back to Quebec. Meanwhile the French and British struggled
for possession of the new land. Several battles were fought with the
victors claiming the pigeon, only to relinquish it during the next battle.
Finally in 1759 at the Plains of Abraham both the English general Wolfe
and the French General Montcalm died. General Wolfe, on his deathbed
heard the reports of heavy French losses and died assuming that the
French had stolen the cursed bird. Thinking the pigeon gone forever
Wolfe exclaimed, "at last I die happy."
Not knowing the curse that the pigeon brought, the English claimed it
as a prize. It was sent back to England and misplaced for several years.
Around 1775 England then under the rule of GeorgeIII raised taxes on
tea in an attempt to still the uprising American colonists. Sensing
unrest at further taxation the British decided it might help if they
started giving away small figurines as prizes in their tea-chests.
One of the prizes turned out to be the enameled pigeon. The unlucky chest
was placed upon the British ship The Beaver and set sail for America.
The colonists revolted smashing the tea-chests and spilling the tea
into the Charles River. One of the colonists scooped up what he
thought was a lucky find and carried it away. The Pigeon surfaced again
in 1812 near what is now Windsor when American forces turned their eyes on
the British forces occupying Canada. General Isaac Brock turned away
the attacking Americans and as a spoil of war took the American's mascot
which was said to be in the shape of a white bird. Isaac Brock was
later killed in the battle. In 1867 Canada claimed independence
from Britain with royal assent to the passage of the British North
America Act. As a token of gratitude, Canada's first Prime Minister,
John A. MacDonald, searched among his emptied whiskey bottles and found
the perfect gift to send to Queen Victoria. Supposedly the Queen used
the pigeon to discipline unruly members of parliament, by walloping them
across the head with it. In 1912 a descendant of the queen who was
infatuated with a young American woman sent her the pigeonas a token of
his affection for her. The pigeon was placed on the unsinkable new
ocean liner Titanic. By some quirk of fate, and by this point I'm willing
to accept just about anything, the radio-operator decided to save one
relic from the doomed ocean-liner. As the Titanic sideswiped an iceberg
and plunged into the sea, the young man took of all things a white pigeon
and held it to his chest while waiting for his lifeboat to be retrieved.
The pigeon was handed down to his daughter who in turn bestowed it
upon a young man she fancied who in 1927 was attempting to become the
first person to fly solo across the Atlantic Ocean. The pilot stowed the
luckless charm with another good luck charm, reportedly a stuffed bear.
Through some fluke of nature the man touched down in Paris some 33 hours
later. His baggage however was mishandled and the pigeon was again feared
lost. A housekeeper to the Russian consulate in Paris bought the
pigeon from a small mere et pere shop and placed it in the office
of a young Russian officer named Zhivago. It was here that I had traced it.
Despite my attempts to purchase the object. I was frustrated until I learned
that the general who had mistaken it for one of those Wizard air-fresheners
had given it to a young woman in my employ. That woman of course was
Miss Bridget O'Deur. And now here we are.
Sham looked up, his drink fell from his hand. "Why you...."
His speech was slurred and he slumped forward in his chair.
"Lee!", McFatmahon called to his assistant. "I told you not
to spike his drink."
"I didn't", the young tough replied, "but you've got to admit that
story was REALLY boring."
********************************************************************************
********************************************************************************
Sigfile Follies enters the half-baked realm of hardboiled detective fiction.
The Mailtease Pigeon
(Segment 14)
Sham Spayed woke up. He was still groggy from the story he had been
forced to listen to and it took him a while to get his bearings.
McFatmahon and Majors were gone but at least they had left their stuff behind.
Spayed staggered over to the phone and called the office.
"Effie yeah it's Spayed. No, I didn't sleep in. What? It's Tuesday
already. Geez that story was more boring than I thought. The place was
burgled eh. Anything taken? Damn, I needed those coupons. Listen
Effie, I want you to call up your cousin at the University. Yeah ask him to
look into a story about an ancient pigeon. No, I'm not going to
tell you the whole story. Why? Let's just say I've found a cure for
insomnia. Thanks. You be careful too."
Sham replaced the phone on the cradle. B.O. had skipped out on him,
McFatmahon was gone, the only other person left was Mr. Spiro. Sham headed
over to the Belvedere and took the elevator up to the sixth floor.
He jimmied open the door to room 635 ready for the worst. Bridget
hadn't been there though, the room smelled like Brut 33. "Boy talk
about being cursed. Does everybody get this stuff for Christmas?", Sham
thought to himself. Sham searched the apartment, there was no luck
finding his missing coupons. Again he resorted to searching through the
waste-basket. The only item of interest was a newspaper dated yesterday.
Under the Shipping section Agnew had circled an arrival. The Star was
slated to dock early this morning. "Hah! What an idiot.", Spade spoke
out loud. He looked at the paper in his hands. "There are advantages
to living in San Francisco. 6 down, "treat" 9 letters. Everyone knows
it's RiceARoni."
Sham tucked the paper under his arm and headed back to the office.
He wondered about the boat that Agnew had circled. `The Star', was that
important? Would Agnew intend to make a Star Search? If that was the
case McFatmahon would definitely be there. There were other things
that worried him. Whose side was Bridget on? Definitely her own,
why hadn't she just given the bird to McFatmahon? Who was Mr. Spiro
working for? Where did he recognize that Majors guy from, and most
importantly What the hell did I just step in?
"Damned dogs", Spayed cursed, and walked in to the office.
"Sham did you find Bridget?", Effie asked sniffing the air.
"No, Dog-dget", said Sam scraping his shoe with a pencil.
"What did your cousin at the University have to say."
"Oh Sham, he was so busy writing those silly stories of his
that he never gave me a straight answer. He asked some of his folklore
cronies and all they said was that it could've happened."
"Great, so I have nothing to go on."
"I asked the janitor about that and he says he'll try to
fix the bathroom."
"You do that", Sham replied, not knowing what the hell she was talking
about. But then, he thought, why should she be any different.
"Well Effie I'm off to the wharf, I have to see about a boat."
"Is it the Star"
"Yeah, why?"
"Well you'd better hurry, it was set on fire this morning. You might
just be in time to see the last bit of charcoal slip under the water."
********************************************************************************
********************************************************************************
Sigfile Follies enters the half-baked realm of hardboiled detective fiction.
The Mailtease Pigeon
(Segment 15)
It was just past six o'clock when Sham returned. He had meant to
pick up a Sub Sandwich for dinner on the way home, but couldn't decide
which store to buy from. An old man at the wharf was very insistent
that he try the seafood sub, and if there was one thing he hated it was
pushy salespeople. Sham walked in to the office and flopped down in his
chair. The chair let out a groan. "I'll have to get Ahnold to look
at getting me a new chair." Sham said to himself.
"Why don't you just try losing a few pounds.", the chair groaned again.
Sham jumped up. "Geez Effie, I'm sorry, what the heck are you doing in
my chair?"
"Sorry Sham, while you were out, my cousin phoned and started to tell
me the story behind the pigeon, and I just started to doze off. Do
you want to know what he told me?"
"No, thanks Effie, I've got a feeling it was the same story I heard."
"Fair enough, what happened down at the dock?"
"Well sweetheart, sure enough the boat had been deliberately set
afire. No one has seen or heard from the Captain since early that morning."
"Who set the boat on fire Sham?"
"Well the crew was rather unco-operative with their Captain
missing, but I got a distinct impression that they believed it was set
by a small lion-faced kid, about a foot high, with soft cottony skin."
"That doesn't make much sense."
"No, I agree. Cotton is pretty inflammable, I don't think it would
have been him. Anyway, as I understand it a woman showed up early in
the morning to see the Captain, this wasn't unusual, and probably would
have gone unnoticed if the first mate hadn't been up checking on a foul
smell coming from the ship's head. They apparently had been discussing
something when two other gentlemen appeared on board. One of the was a
heavily-set man who claimed that the captain was a grand prize winner."
"What else did they say?"
"Not much else, the smaller man started trying to solicit magazine
subscriptions, and the sailors quickly disappeared. The first mate
said that they went down to see the Captain and that the four of them
started arguing and shouting."
"I don't blame them Sham, who reads some of those magazines?
Barbie monthly? I mean, come on."
"Then the men wanted to see the captain's pitchin', which
seemed strange to the first mate since he didn't think the
major leagues would ever stoop so low as to hire scabs for professional
baseball. The next thing he knew the toilet smelled like it had backed up
and the whole ship started getting warmer."
Just then there was a knock at the office door. Sham looked at the
frosted window and could just make out the outline of a small puppet
with scraggly hair. He opened the door and a large hulking man fell
into the room.
"It's the old man from Fisherman's Wharf. And he has a knife in his back."
Sham rolled him over and examined the dead Captain. On his right hand
was the lion puppet, a small fondue fork through his head. In the other hand
the captain had held a small parcel wrapped in newspaper. Sham picked up the
bundle and laid it on the table. He cut the string and slowly unwrapped the
layers of newsprint. Finally he looked at the object the old man had
brought.
"No! You old fool!", Sham cursed, "I didn't want your stupid
catch of the day. And it's Char. I can't stand Char! He didn't even
bring me any complimentary chips."
Effie tried to pick up the fish that lay on the table.
"Sham, this is rather heavy for Char."
Sham looked back at the fish, taking his Cappy Dick pocket knife
out of his pocket he slit the fish along its side and folded back the flesh.
Wedged inside was a heavy object, over a foot long, white, in the shape of
a pigeon.
"Well I'll be damned.", Sham said, and he picked up the bird.
********************************************************************************
********************************************************************************
Sigfile Follies enters the half-baked realm of hardboiled detective fiction.
The Mailtease Pigeon
(Segment 16)
The phone rang.
It startled them out of their almost hypnotic daze. Sham picked up the phone.
"Hello. What? Where? This is rather inconvenient? Yeah I'll hurry,
try to get them to torture you slowly, so I have time to get there."
Sham hung up. "Look Effie this is important. That was B.O. They have her
at the Alexandria. They're torturing her, something about the Rose Bowl
halftime-show. I want you to go to the police and tell them what happened.
But leave out the bird, Got it. He came here, brought along the catch of
the day and died. Don't touch the knife. Let the experts in homicide
worry about the knife. They'll put it in an envelope or something.
If they ask about me, tell them I was at home practicing my golf swing
or something like that."
Sham headed down to the bus station. He found the baggage desk and
checked the bird in. He put the claim ticket in an envelope and
addressed it to Effie's mother in Chinatown.
"Would you like a stamp for that sir?", the clerk asked.
"No thanks", said Sham and he dropped the envelope into
the mail slot.
The Alexandria Hotel was dark. Sam took the elevator up to
the twelfth floor and crept along the corridor. Opening the familiar
oaken doors, he slipped inside and crept toward the back rooms.
As he tip-toed inside a scream rang out.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
"O.k. calm down, it's me, Sham. Everything's going to be all right",
he said switching on the light. Sham looked down at the startled woman
who cowered under her bedsheet. "Who the hell are you?", he asked.
"More to the point who the hell are YOU?", she asked.
"Um, isn't this 12-c?"
"No, this is 12-D. You want the room across the hall."
"Oh, well sorry."
"Not at all.", she said as Sham slipped out of the room. "Stupid git."
Sham crossed the hall. He opened the door to 12-c. A wave
of natural gas hit him. Yes, Bridget had been here all right.
And things were definitely ugly. On the wall there was a projected image
of Grover Cleveland dancing with some flappers who had roses
where they usually had pasties. "I've got to get out of here fast",
thought Sham.
There was a prone figure lying on the floor of the apartment. From the
nametag that read "MAID", Sham deduced that she was probably a hotel
employee. He dragged her out into the hall and walked her around.
Selma was not the prettiest girl in the world, and Sham was glad that
the hotel was so dark. She asked him for his name and number.
Sham smiled as he passed her Mr. Spiro's business card.
Sham wandered down to the lobby. He called Effie at the office.
"Hi Effie, how'd it go at the police station? Good. You go home
now, I'll see you in the morning. No, it was a false alarm. Oh, tell your
mom if she gets any mail from me, not to throw it out. Yeah, tell her I'm
sorry about the chain letter. See Ya."
Sham hung up and started the long walk home.
********************************************************************************
********************************************************************************
Sigfile Follies enters the half-baked realm of hardboiled detective fiction.
The Mailtease Pigeon
(Segment 17)
As he walked up the stairs to his apartment, Sham wondered
whether tomorrow was garbage day. His apartment door turned easily
and as he switched on the light he realized the source of his
puzzlement. Seated around his living room were Bridget, Mr. Spiro,
McFatmahon and his bodyguard Majors.
"Oh Sham, thank goodness you're here", Bridget said running up to him
and embracing the overwhelmed detective.
"You can cut the baloney", he replied.
"She sure can", admitted Spiro waving his hands in the air.
"Can it.", retorted Spayed, "what the hell are you guys doing in
my apartment? If you touched my toothbrush I'm going to be very angry."
"Well sir, as you no doubt know, we are here to recover the pigeon.
I assumed you had it in your apartment, but when we came to retrieve it,
I discovered it had been moved. Very ingenious, yes sir, very ingenious
indeed. hah hah hah."
"What makes you so sure I have the pigeon?"
"The old man came here with the package, we followed the trail of blood
sir, and by gum if it didn't lead right to your door." McFatmahon explained.
"What I don't understand is why you didn't get it off Bridget originally
and leave me out of your little circus."
"Miss O'Deur seems to have had her own ideas, didn't you my dear?",
Spiro chuckled.
"Oh Sham it could have been ours.", she sobbed, "I just
needed you to trust me."
"I can't trust you angel", Sham started, "All I know is that I was
supposed to have a love interest in this story and that I didn't get
it."
"It's not my fault Sham, blame the writer, you know he can't create
a realistic female character. Oh Sham, let's leave and let the rest
of them worry about finishing the plot. It's only three more days."
"Don't be a fool sir.", McFatmahon interrupted, "We're offering
you money, why sir, you may already be a winner. What have you done
with the pigeon my good man?"
"Let's just say I took precautions."
"You didn't mail it did you?" Spiro wheezed, "Say you didn't.
Oh what if CanadaPost gets it, it'll be lost for good."
"Don't wet your britches, I can get you the bird. Now let's talk
about the dough."
"Well", gasped McFatmahon, "We are prepared to offer you $1000
for the pigeon." He counted out the money, "seven, eight, nine,
wait a minute there's a hundred dollars missing!"
"I bet she took it!", Spiro accused B.O.
"No, I never touched your wallet", Bridget denied.
"Um, I'm sorry", came the reply from Majors, "I had to pay
off the pizza guy."
"Very well Mr. Spayed, we are prepared to pay you $900 for the
pigeon.", McFatmahon offered.
"Hey what gives? A few days ago you offered me $5000."
"Yes, well", explained McFatmahon, "that was talk money, now I
am offering real money. Besides, we're on a budget you know."
Suddenly there was a blaring voice, interrupting the proceedings.
" HI, WE'LL BE RIGHT BACK TO `THE MAILTEASE PIGEON' IN JUST
A FEW MINUTES. THESE QUALITY SHOWS ARE MADE POSSIBLE BY SUPPORT
FROM READERS LIKE YOU. IN ORDER TO KEEP PROGRAMS LIKE THE ONE
YOU'RE WATCHING ON THE INTERNET, WHY NOT TAKE A FEW MINUTES OF
YOUR TIME AND MAIL YOUR MONETARY PLEDGE TO...."
"Sorry about that", said Sham, as he turned off his alarm clock,
"It must be four in the morning."
********************************************************************************
********************************************************************************
Sigfile Follies enters the half-baked realm of hardboiled detective fiction.
The Mailtease Pigeon
(Segment 18)
"Nine Hundred Dollars, Mr Spayed! Are you in or out?", McFatmahon
asked.
"Don't answer yet Sham", Bridget pleaded.
"We'll also cut you in for twenty per cent of the sale price."
"No wait there's still more."
"We'll even send you this lovely chef's knife, plus the
world's smallest juicer."
"What if I still say no?", Sham asked.
"Then I am afraid if we can not have it we will make sure you
can't either." Sham watched as Lee and Spiro each pulled out their guns.
"What do you think of that Mr. Spayed? Hah Hah Hah", McFatmahon chuckled.
"I think,........ THIS! Sham kicked out at the gun Lee was holding,
sending it hurtling across the room. Meanwhile Spiro fidgeted with his
ladylike pistol.
"Unnh come on you lousy,...... Unnh! Stupid Time magazine bonus offer!"
Agnew Spiro looked up to see Sham Spayed grinning at him. He looked
at Lee Major's fallen body.
"Oooh" said Spiro, "I told you to hire a GOOD stunt man."
"All right, that's enough. I'll take your offer, but I need one more
thing, I need a fall guy and Lee Majors over there seems to fit the part."
"Impossible.", Mcfatmahon said, I feel towards Lee like he was
my own flesh and blood."
"And I feel towards him as if he were my very own", Spiro cooed.
"I thought we were going to leave the fairy stuff out", Sham moaned.
"Hey, this is San Francisco.", Spiro reminded him.
"Now honestly, think about what you're asking", McFatmahon pleaded,
"Why does Lee have to be the fall guy? Who'll believe a guy
named Lee would kill anybody? I suppose he shot a magic bullet
that killed both Thursday and Neutered."
"Look tubby, do you want the pigeon or the lovebirds?"
"Very well, I'll take the pigeon."
"NO!", Majors was incensed at his employer's betrayal. He jumped up,
ran at Sham and slipped on a banana peel, fell and knocked himself
unconscious.
"Wow!", said Sham, "I didn't think that banana peel thing ever worked.
Hey does anybody see any stars or tweeting birds?"
"You have our co-operation Mr. Spayed, now what about the bird?"
"I just have to get it out of the mail system...."
"You see! You see!", Spiro screamed holding Major's fallen body,
"I knew he mailed it. Now we'll never see it."
"It'll be here in the morning", Sham said as he picked up the phone.
"Hiya Effie, yeah I know it's four in the morning, look, do me a favour,
go down to the office there should be a letter returned for postage due.
In it you'll find a claim slip to our parcel drop-off. Pick it up and
bring it 'round to my place willya. Thanks."
"And now," Sham said turning back to his guests, pistol in hand,
"We wait."
********************************************************************************
********************************************************************************
Sigfile Follies enters the half-baked realm of hardboiled detective fiction.
The Mailtease Pigeon
(Segment 19)
Dawn was just beginning to break when Effie trotted up the steps
to the apartment.
"Hi Sham, sorry I'm late the baggage clerk tried to hand me a black
statue, some other bird, weighed about 47 pounds, but I got it sorted out."
"Thanks Doll. I'll call you at the office later."
"Sure Sham", she said and bit her lip as she turned to leave.
Attention was now focused upon the bundle that Sham laid out on the table.
"You realize Mr. Spayed", McFatmahon addressed him, "that this is
the stuff that dreams are made of."
"That's a good line, McFatmahon, mind if I use it someday?"
"Be my guest."
Mr. Spiro toyed with the string that was holding the package together.
Sham handed a knife to McFatmahon.
"Go ahead", he urged, "I've uh, already seen it."
"Thank you sir, I shall."
"At last", Spiro exclaimed, "after all these years."
Spiro pulled the white pigeon out of the newspaper and set it down
on the table.
"I can't wait, peel off the white coating. It has been centuries
since man set eyes on the jeweled pigeon."
While Spiro flaked away at the white layers, the lack of air-conditioning
started to take its toll on the weary fortune seekers.
"Please Miss O'Deur, not to stand so close", McFatmahon said waving his
hands around.
"There seems to be an awful lot of the white layering", Bridget said
just noticing the smell herself.
It was then that Spiro screamed.
"Ugh! I just realized what all this white stuff covering the pigeon is!"
"I don't believe it, it's a fake", McFatmahon announced.
"It's not the real bird?", Spiro was incensed, "You idiot I told you
not to trust Zhivago. He must have suspected something."
"Relax my friend", McFatmahon calmed him, "We have followed the pigeon
this long, a trip back to Russia should not take much longer."
"All right, but if I can't get Lara's theme out of my head for a month,
there'll be hell to pay."
"How about you Mr. Spayed? We could use a man of your resourcefulness."
"Count me out boys, four weeks of this pigeon crap is enough for me."
"That's a shame my friend, come along Majors."
"No", Spayed resisted, "I need him for the police."
"That was contingent upon this being the pigeon. Being the resourceful
man you are, I'm sure you'll be able to tell the police something.
Now as to the nine-hundred dollars."
"I'll be keeping that for expenses. As for buying the bird, don't worry,
I'm sure you'll be able to think up something."
"Very well sir", McFatmahon harrumphed. "Come along Mr. Spiro
we have a plane to catch."
The three men turned and filed out of the apartment.
Sham turned to Bridget.
"Well we're finally alone. I guess it's just me and you now kid."
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Sigfile Follies enters the half-baked realm of hardboiled detective fiction.
The Mailtease Pigeon
(Segment 20)
The front door to Sham's apartment burst in.
"All rite nobudy move"
"Geez Ahnold what the hell are you bursting in on us for?"
"Dat's all right I'm a polizeman. Ha! Iz dat a grate dizguize or what?
I bet yoo nevah zaw dat plot tvist kumink. Vriday here is my pahtner. "
"You're late", Sham chided, "You've already missed them."
"Izn't dis epizode twentee? Ve alvayz get za bad guyz in za lazt
epizode."
"Maybe they figured that out and left early."
"Ooooh, zeze punkz are gettink trikke!"
Sham picked up the phone and dialed.
"Hello Drebbin, it's Spayed. Yeah. Get your wagons rolling, I've
got the killers, they're heading towards the Santa Monica Freeway,
they'll be driving a White Ford Bronco, you can't miss it."
"Boy", said Friday, "that thing sure gets alot of mileage."
"About 9 kilometres per Litre", Bridget noted.
"No", replied Friday, "I meant the Bronco joke, Geez will this
OJ thing ever end?"
"That's all right Friday, here, take her too." Sham handed Bridget
over to the police officer.
"Sham, NO.", she protested. "What do you think you're doing?"
"You should have found a sap like Jake Gittes. He'd eat all the
dirt in his yard for a dame like you, and all the dog bones too."
"Sham, tell them it's all a joke. Tell them I really am the
love interest in this story. Do you know what they'll do to me?"
"Yes angel I do. They'll probably hang you. Then they'll have to
fumigate. It won't be pretty but it beats sticking all those pine tree air
fresheners around the room."
"Why Sham? Why? Don't you love me?"
"Maybe I do. But I finally figured out that joke about the Pekignese
and it wasn't that funny. I also figured out what really happened
last Friday. Miles wasn't stupid enough to get plugged when he was tailing
someone. He wouldn't let himself be shot dead in a back alley. He would
have done it at Portage and Main and got his picture plastered all over the
Sun. No angel he wouldn't go into a back alley with a man, but he'd have
gone with you, and that's where you shot him and then you shot Thursday."
"No Sham I didn't mean..."
"Don't say anything darling. Maybe I do love you and maybe they won't
hang you. Maybe I'll see you in twenty years. All I know is that
the problems of two people don't amount to a hill of beans in this
crazy world."
"Wrong ending Sham."
"All right, then just let me tell you that I wish it had been
different. I wish I had more speaking lines, I wish I had a car
so I wouldn't have to walk everywhere, and on top of it all I wish
we still had a janitor. I also wish that back in episode four the
waitress had asked me what I wanted to eat and I wish that I could
have told her "I'd like an elastic sandwich and make it snappy." But don't
worry your pretty little head dear, we'll always have Telgte."
Sham watched as Joe and Ahnold led Bridget O'Deur to the car. He watched
as they put her in, then rolled down the windows and drove away.
He waited a few minutes and then called the office.
"Hi Effie it's Sham. Yeah it's over. Nine hundred bucks, why?
Yeah I'll pay you. Now do me favour, Call up Iva and ask her if she's
willing to drop the charges."
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Return to the Sigfile Follies
Return to the Theatre of the Imaginary
jeffcarrie@geocities.com