A little of this and a bit more

Alan Crawford presents twisted short and some longer stories for adults, with quite a number of his rants and observations as well.

Several curious people, really it’s just one, asked me how or where the ideas came from. Thankfully there’s no clear answer. When the trousers, mind, or weather conditions suit such things, the computer opens, a page appears, and it starts to flow. All designed to promote my nonsense, which may be adult in nature but not necessarily mature.

Arena Casino Two

Arena Casino
Reading Time: 3 minutes

DCI Peter Thomas was about to turn 41. The biggest landmark in life’s years the big 40 was now behind him. It was an immensely drunken and somewhat illegal celebration. Three clubs, loads of alcohol, some public, some very adult with two behind very private doors. It finished with him and the various hangers on avoiding arrest due to his career choice and the fact the fun stoppers won’t have dared nick the boss. He swore off ever partying with Lynne again after that night. He’d interviewed her in relation to an organised crime group called Hugh St and found lust shortly after. She was insatiable, as was he. They came together whenever they could and when her parole officer was out of town. She was very much on the “do not associate with list”. She also partied with Leo and Ruth, but Peter was none the wiser. 

He wasn’t married

He had no sensible girlfriend. He did manage to refrain from heavy drinking and illicit drug taking. He was taking a large number of prescribed medications. His daily intake would kill a horse. Cholesterol, Gout, High Blood Pressure, a headache nearly all day – every day and a couple of vitamins thrown in for good measure. He swallowed all that in a day and almost created a rattling sound as his portly belly wobbled along in front of his legs.

The abode for DCO Thomas was a surprising thing if and when anyone actual visited. Not many and normal only once. The home address for Peter was a brand new apartment in Gala Grove Lincoln Point, down by the beach at the fancy end. Not the shit-kicker, dead beat moron, drug addict, government housing end. No he was at Merlin Beach. The swanky, wanky I’m special area in Lincoln Point. The area that thinks their poo is golden and without smell. Their piss sure stank though. Peter liked it there. He didn’t socialise much locally, and unless he’d met you professionally you’d not know he was a seriously well credentialed fun stopper, a DCI, the boss.

He did go to Girls on Film a fair bit on his late starts, when not on a case. He enjoyed the coffee, toast and the delightful Cherry and her staff. Peter’s mate Alex, one of the Council EHO’s put him onto the joy of heterosexual observance on offer.

Well Worthy

Constable Marianne Worthy was well worthy and had been in Peter’s mind for a while. Indeed, so inappropriately that everyone in Lincoln Point would lose their jobs if he ever acted on his fantasy. Nothing really illegal, just completely against all QPS supervisory behaviour, as well as the citizen codes. The politician don’t give a fuck, they just do whatever they like. He’d arrested a few in his time. He’d also arrested that fat grub from the Church of the Sunshine Grass – Rupert K. Asquith. He laughed remembering the stories from Alex, he called him Special K.

Back on track Peter managed to refrain from pursuing any targeted movements and kept himself at arms length. He was too distracted just now with the Arena Casino, Malcolm Smith and the Gloryville murder investigation. To many strange things rolling around in that pile of facts. Malcolm’s body was burnt, identified then cremated. If course it was. The identification was DNA and dental records. Great work from the lab at the time. Maybe not so great now.  He thought about his own teeth a far bit, as he’d started a self whitening procedure and was going for a shade of white he could be impressed with. 24 years of smoking professionally, drinking coffee and ignoring his teeth in so many way resulted in him only having 11 left. They were getting whiter.

A Birthday 

The Arena Casino had recently celebrated it’s 6 year birthday and remarkably invited all the 6 year olds and their gambling parents to a special celebration. No alcohol for the kiddies of course but bucket loads for the mums, dads, aunt, uncles, those who cut their hair, their lawn, those who lived next door and/or any other bugger they could squeeze into their 20 per family invite. The day was an enormous success, turn over up 6 times a normal Monday and they still had week of 6 year nonsense to fleecing and flogging to go. Alex had mentioned to Peter that even though he shouldn’t tell, the Casino did a tremendous job in food safety, although like everywhere in Lincoln Point they needed a gentle kick up the arse once in a while. The complaints that came into Council made for a great night of laughs as they enjoyed the merriment of afters at Girls on Film. Only between them of course. 

Eugene was circling the block he’d identified for his next target. He had the van, the plan, the tools and enough of the lack of consideration for others he needed to slaughter his next friend. continued …

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I'm an increasingly grumpy old fart posting rants, observations and trying to write somewhat twisted short and slightly longer stories for adults. All rights reserved unless otherwise credited © Alan Crawford - 2024

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