From: "Jom Tones" <publicenemanumberone@hotmail.nospam.com> Subject: [PW!] The case to end all cases... Date: Thursday, June 24, 2004 9:59 AM Jack OATS took a long drag on his cigarette and plonked his pinstriped legs up onto the stained mahogany desk. The last evening light filtered through the blinds and hit the sparsely decorated walls at an artistic angle. He closed his eyes and tucked his hands behind his head, his hat perched low over his brow. Below, he could hear the drone of the old woman hoovering downstairs; the cats fighting in the adjacent alley way and the cacophony of honks and toots from the rush hour traffic. The world moved on around him, and Jack sat back and waited for his next call. Basking in the light, lazier than normal and in a state of post-vermin-chase lethargy, sat Jack's Persian on the sofa bed. She yawned slowly and returned to her dreams of chasing scallywag Pichus over the rooftops. Jack stubbed out his cigarette and drank from the cool glass of milk on his desk. Newspaper clippings, surveillance photos, old scrap books, clues from past cases and an assortment of bubblegum paper littered the desk. Hidden, in amongst the wreckage was a phone and stationary holder - only most of the stationary was strewn about the room. Refreshed and high on nicotine, Jack sat up and walked over to his TV. He turned it on and flicked aimlessly through the channels while he observed the people in the neighbouring building through his window. Nothing interesting - a few domestic scuffles, children on the fire escape, wet washing hung over a network of cobweb lines. The drone from the TV became inaudible as he looked further out across the city through the window. The sky was coal red and the sun's last light glowed in the west like a dying fire. The air was hot, thick and sticky, something was coming, he could feel it. He stood at his window and observed the way in which his neighbours shut out the oncoming night. The domestic scuffles ceased as a chill wind whipped the net curtains, burly housewives shut their windows; the children were chased indoors by it; the clothes on the line danced feverishly. This feeling wasn't enough to counter his boredom and he was soon distracted again by it. Turning the TV off again, Jack cast the remote onto the sofa and on to his beige trench coat. Frowning, he cast his eyes about the room looking for something new to occupy his vacant attention. He'd read all the papers; the police radio was filled with chatter about hit and runs; there was nothing on TV. Jack was about to settle down to read a book called 'Ciphers and Codes: A PI's handbook to cracking the system,' when the phone rang. Jack snapped out of boredom mode and back into the act. Both he and Persian glanced at the phone. "Hey, Big P," Jack said, "If this is another jealous husband asking for surveillance on his wife - how about I give up the game forever and retire?" The Persian looked at him with disgust before going back to sleep. Jack swaggered over to the phone and picked up the receiver. "Hello, this is P.I. Jack OATS - I solve mysteries. How may I...?" "Let me guess, you want me to check in on your wife during her lunch breaks - oh, you don't..." "Who is this?" "Dammit, how many times have I told you not to call me at work?" "Mrs Malone, I hope you don't mean that - what do you mean? - I'm not making any noise!! - You crazed old woman, stop hampering me!!!" Jack slammed the phone down. He felt flustered. Dammit, I'm never going to get any work at this rate, he thought angrily to himself. Suddenly, there came a tapping at his door. An unexpected flash of lightning revealed the figure of a man behind the glass door. The letters on the glass - rotagitsevnI etavirP STAO kcaJ - danced about the room. The thunder rumbled menacingly, the air had gone cold. The sun had retreated behind a big black cloud. Persian sat up and hissed at the door as it swung open to reveal a rather timid looking man with blonde hair and a green tie... The silence was then shattered again... "LOUD LOUD!!!" quoth the Pokémon. "Shut up Loudred," the timid man replied, "Mr OATS and I have business." -- Hem Hem - oiseau bum talent- - JomTones publicenemanumberone@hotmail.nospam.com