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. See menu for the main Short Stories.


The Body in the Basement

The Body in the Basement
Reading Time: 4 minutes

Trish gives a statement 

I have eyes for the tenant in the unit next door, but during last night’s routine infrared photography session I spotted something else. Another interrupted photography session. The tenant was active, I was keen but then a shape of what seems to be two humans snuck past. They glided through my eye-line. While wiping away sweat and adjusting the lens I smudged my eye makeup.

Police needed much more, a precise description of the shapes I witnessed. I had typed out a list for them and it turns out that the young Police Constable lost the list. It was found in the foyer’s bin by the onsite manager and shared amongst the tenants. This is how it ended up on alancrawford.com.au 

  • Maybe both were male
  • One was helping the other
  • They seemed to be muscular and gym regulars, but not clouds
  • They wore dark well fitting pants and very tight shirts.
  • The first one, helping the other, had an obvious skin condition, maybe psoriasis
  • The finger nails of the one being helped were very well groomed and sported black nail polish 
  • Both wore sketchers runner type shoes and both were black with a neon yellow stripe
  • The one helping had received Scalp Micro-pigmentation SMP on the front hairline
  • The helper had a crew cut at a number two level
  • They both looked out of place and seemed terribly nervous
  • The helpee seemed to be in serious discomfort

The Police did not know

They had no need to find out about my habits. Or my passion for the neighbour and the collection of photographs, videos and clothes I had curated. In fact the neighbour rejected me. He once vomited all over my calves and shoes in a lift ride to our floor. The neighbour named Craig later thought it may have been food poisoning, but an excessive amount of drink may have played a part. 

I threw the clothes and shoes away. Thankfully the lift was cleaned by the onsite manager who was suitably thrilled to be called upon to do so at 11pm. Of course I wasn’t in the lift by accident, I spotted the neighbour arrive and planted myself via a surprise pincer movement to try my long lost technique of tagging a partner for fun. Sure my flirting days are long gone. I’m 64 after all and the hapless Craig only just 40.

My detailed observations intrigued the Police. They also intrigued the residents for some time. I had to explain the use of my infrared camera and lens options. I made up a tale that I was testing light levels and ratings when I spotted the two individuals. The Police believed me, the residents didn’t seem to. 

What actually happened

It was a mystery. There was the body in the basement. Yes, it was as described by Trish but it was the helper not the helpee, if her description was accurate. The telltale SMP and collar length hair was the key. It was well washed, cut and dried by a salon and not a quick bathroom before going out affair. The mystery was compounded by Police wondering how the helpee who was apparently in serious discomfort, could have removed the head of the helper. 

It sat atop of the bin closet to the hoper that catches the garbage falling down the chute. It was balanced between a can of XXXX beer and a McDonalds hamburger wrapper box. The face had been positioned into a grimace. One eye was closed offering a very morbid wink to the onlookers. The Police scoured each bin and the surrounding area to find a Samurai Sword worthy of an HBO mini series. Experts conducted trace evidence collection.

Without any detailed knowledge, other than the description offered by Trish, the Police left the scene. They rang and ordered pizza place for dinner. The residents who knew what had occurred in their basement weren’t much in the mind for food. Trish panicked and packed up her collection of the neighbour’s photo’s, videos and the range of clothing  she’d collected.

Lovers tiff

It transpired that the helper and helpee were lovers that had fallen out in a jealous rage. The waiter at the Thai restaurant downstairs had overstepped the level of customer service. Straight at the helper, who’d responded with too much attention. The helpee was angry as hell and feigned stomach troubles and on departure asked for an immediate scurry to a place where he might evacuate his bowels. 

The helper obliged. With much flourish and influence from alcohol and Quentin Tarantino the helpee loped his lover’s head. He placed it on the bin and chucked his sword. An anniversary gift put to an alternate use. The evening’s events seemed all too surreal.

Well that’s it

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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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