Cannibal Dwarf Detective: An Ephemeral Beardening (3 page)

Chapter 6

           
After leaving Armando’s office, Jeac makes his way down the central stairwell
to the massive door that opens onto the Chandakan wastes. Every so often, as he
walks the burning sands of the outside world, he thinks about what might have
happened to the people before they moved from their now destroyed cities into
the central C.D.P.D tower.

Sander’s cacti farm is three miles
east of the door, so Jeac has to walk through all sorts of abandoned
sand-covered ruins. Occasionally, he sees skeletons, rusted and destroyed cars,
and scavengers, who for some reason like to eat the bone marrow they find in
the desert. He’s never had any trouble with them though because, while he has a
gun, they carry only sticks.

           
Jeac closes his fat eyes, sucks in the air around him, and continues to venture
towards the East. However, forty minutes later when he opens his eyes he
realizes that he has walked
way
past the cacti farm.

Jeac hears chanting nearby so he
scales the sand dune and looks down to see the R.B.G.O.A.T.s standing around a
large bomb-like contraption. One of the Goats stands atop the bomb and is
shouting, “We are the goats! We have built this bomb and we shall explode the
C.D.P.D!”

His comrades cheer. The sand beneath
Jeac’s feet shift and he slides down the sand dune, slamming his head on a
jaggedly janky rock, causing him to black out. He awakens several hours later
in a daze.

           
“Crap, the farm!”

           
After walking the distance back to where the farm actually is, he finds the
place a mess. All of the cacti have been exploded into green chunks, their
white milk spilling out onto the ground. He pulls his pistol out as a
precautionary measure and inches his way to the front of the small octo-hovel.
He peers in through the large banana-shaped opening that Alfonzo’s car had left
earlier. All the furniture has been toppled over or smashed. The walls are
covered in thick black ink. Papers are spread everywhere. Hanging from the
ceiling, where the chandelier would have been, is a single tentacle.

           
“Oh no,” says Jeac as he steps over the broken wall and into the building.

           
Black ink trails across the house, into the kitchen, and out the back door.
Jeac finds yet another tentacle in the kitchen and glances out the window over
the sink to see another of his friends’ limbs sitting in a bucket.

The small, normally dried-yellow sand
in the back yard has been stained black. Jeac, seeing a figure in the distance,
kicks open the rear door and fires three warning shots. He steps out the door
and sprints to where the figure now lies. A wheezing breath still comes from
the figure. Jeac rolls it over and stares into the eyes of Sanders.

           
“Oh, shit,” says Jeac. “I didn’t know it was you, Sanders! I wouldn’t have shot
if I had known. I saw your limbs laying everywhere and thought for certain you
were your killer.”

           
“You always were a fool, Jeac. Octopi limbs regenerate. Had you not shot me,
I’d have been fine.”

Ink drips from the tentacled
informant’s beaked mouth. As he releases his final breath, all the ink in his
body sprays with uncontrollable fervor. The pressure is enough to completely
destroy what remains of the house. The desert consumes the ruins of Sander’s
home, making it seem like it was never there to begin with. Jeac falls a very
short distance to his knees as he watches his once good friends’ corpse,
riddled with bullets, get picked up by the wind and carried away into the great
unknown like a deflating balloon. Jeac mourns momentarily and then immediately
forgets that Ja-La Pe-Pe Ecko Sanders ever existed and proceeds to gather up
the severed tentacles and says, “Why waste a good meal?”

Back in his apartment, he has put
water to boil and is placing two of the three tentacles into the pot when the
sound of knocking comes from his door.

           
“Come in!”

           
Alfonzo and Armando open the door. Alfonzo shoots a banana gun in every
direction, covering various things around the room in goop.

           
“It’s still Wednesday you little dwarf!”

           
The remaining tentacle sits on the counter next to a large knife and catches Armando’s
eye.

           
“Where’d you get the tentacles, Jeac?” He asks.

           
“Oh, you know. Some place out in the wastes.”

           
“Well we dropped by because you didn’t file a report. Nor did you bring in the
perp I assigned to you. I’m getting a bit concerned with letting you operate on
your own. The department wants to partner you up with a member of the A.M.M.D.
Jeff ‘Low Rider’ Stevens.”

           
Jeac dumps the pot of boiling water all over the kitchen floor and leans down
to pick up the now cooked tentacles. He grips the chewy flesh in his teeth and
pulls until it stretches and snaps like a rubber band.

           
“I ain’t workin’ with no cog-bender,” he says between bites. “It’s not that I’m
racist. I just hate machines.”

           
“Well, Jeac. Your partner is outside. You’re working with him no matter what.
Public opinion of the department is faltering. You’re making us look bad.
You’re a terrible detective; you’re drinking all the time and that whole
situation with the hot dog stand and your penis in chapter four? Don’t even get
me started. You’re working with the machine or you’re not working at all.”

           
“Then I quit.”

           
“If you quit you’re no longer protected with false identification by the-“

Jeac belches and spits entire chunks
of cat out onto the floor.

“As I was saying,” Armando continues.
“If you quit we can’t protect you. We’d not only confiscate your badge and gun,
but we’d also take your stilts and Sack o’ ‘Staches.”

Jeac grumbles and slips in the now
cooled water and hits his head on the linoleum. Suddenly, he recalls figures in
the desert. Figures standing atop a strange device while chanting. He ignores
it and takes another bite of the tentacle.

“Jeac wait. Where did you say you got
your dinner?”

“In the… Oh no,” Jeac replies,
suddenly aware of the horrible act of almost cannibalism he’s committed. “…
Sanders.”

“That explains why you never brought
the perp in for processing at the station. You were too busy bringing him in…
for uh… for lunch,” Armando says. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t think of a bad
octopus-man cannibalism pun. But never mind all of that. Did you see anything
else out there?”

Again, Jeac thinks about the strange
people chanting just over the dune and of the device they had with them.

“No. I can’t say I saw anything at
all.”

Alfonzo and Armando stay a while
longer before leaving. Jeac stays up late watching his new partner blow smoke
all night from his window.  

“Great, just what I need,” he thinks.
“Damn steel freak following me around.”

Chapter 7
            Jeac wakes
up and puts on his stilts and adorns a new fu man chu. He finishes his
breakfast of sautéed tentacle jerky and heads out the door.

“What a splendid day today!” he says.
He struts down the hall like a rooster with a mouthful of yogurt that is
drowning but doesn’t realize it because he’s both too stupid and too proud.
Then he sees it. The pile of junk waiting for him.

“Hey, Mini-meat!” it says. “You kept
me out here all night. It’ll take a while for my engine to warm up now.”

“So you must be Seth Low Rider?” Jeac
asks while rolling his eyes. Jeff rolls towards Jeac.

“It is pronounced ‘Jeff’,” he says.
“I presume you are the one they call Freak Jernando?”

“It’s pronounced fake.”

“…Are you saying you have a fake
name?” asks the puzzled truck.

“Ha! NO. It’s a joke. Forget about
it.”

Jeac reaches out as Jeff extends his
glossy pearlescent car door arm and he shakes hands with his new mechanized
partner.

“Pleased to meet you, cog-head.”

They start down the stairs, Jeac
sprinting to keep ahead of the truck that careens sideways on two wheels down
the stair case.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” says
Jeac. “We’re partners. Not equals. I’m in charge and you’ll do what I say when I
say it. Chief’s orders.”

“I hate to burst your tiny bubble,
organ-bearer. The boss told me just the opposite. He believes you to be a
danger to this investigation. He also told me to-“

Jeac swings his arms in a fanning
motion toward the trucks sparkling face.

“Never mind all that nonsense! I have
a very important question to ask.”

“Yeah? What do you want to know?”

“Do I get to ride inside of you,
Jeff?”

The truck stands up, insulted.

“You ill-mannered…!” Jeff grinds his
gears together and through clenched bolt-teeth mutters, “Not even going to buy
me dinner first?”

Jeac smirks and offers Jeff an oil
change if he agrees.

“Of course you can ride, Feac,” Jeff
sighs. “It only depends on how far we’re going.”

“All the way, baby. All. The. Way.”

“We have to check something out that
I recently came across,” Jeac says as the two make their way out of the tower.
Once they arrive outside Jeff lowers his hydraulic chassis and Jeac steps
awkwardly into the back of the white leather, pistachio-scented low rider truck.
He caresses the seat.

“Damn. You comfy. Now, drive into the
desert, my trusty steed!”

Jeff and Jeac explode down the street
and into the distance. A cloud of smoke is left in their wake and several
elderly people choke on the exhaust and curl up on the ground with their limbs
protruding into the air. Not unlike spiders when they die.

As the low rider booms past ruins and
stray animals, a lot of dust collects in the car and Jeac passes out. Hours go
by and the sun, high in the sky, has managed to burn Jeac’s face. He dreams
deep into the recesses of his mind. The places where his dark thoughts reside.
Along with his fears, but also his hopes. It’s a place he rarely goes.

In this dream he finds himself
surrounded by figures who refuse to take form. They drift in and out of focus.
Sometimes becoming one mass. Other times brushing against him and trying to get
him to join. Eventually the forms sense his stubbornness and fade out forever,
leaving him there to die.

His face is itchy. Horribly itchy.
Jeac can no longer contain himself and begins clawing at his face. Skin starts
flaking off in small amounts and then in greater and larger chunks. He screams.

“Ah! My face!” he yells. “Jeff-truck
thing! Are you there?”

Metal shards are scattered throughout
the sands. Jeac’s vision is blurry from hitting his head. He kneels down and
picks up a piece of metal. After flipping it over and wiping off the dirt, the
metal shard clearly says, “A.M.M.D.”

Like, in English. The metal warps and
forms lips and mouths the letters because Jeac is hallucinating and why
wouldn’t the metal do that?

“Shit. What happened?”

Jeac stands up and sees a hairy
figure on the horizon. After rubbing his eyes in an attempt to clear his
vision, he can see that the figure is some kind of goat-like animal. While
walking up the sandy hill the glare from the building in the distance reflects
back and burns Jeac’s retinas.

“My eyeballs!” screams the horrified
dwarf as he collapses and falls down the sand dune. Toppling head over stumps,
he lands face first in the hard ground below and knocks himself unconscious.

“Baaaaa.”

“Why can’t I remember?” Jeac asks
himself.

“Baaa!”

A sharp pain in Jeac’s shoulder
rouses him. He cannot see and therefore cannot trust.

“Reveal yourself at once, demon!”

Jeac throws his fists into the air
hoping for some hard truth. He hits nothing.

“Baaaa.”

The creature is dragging Jeac.

“Where are you taking me, beast?”
demands Jeac.

“Maa.”

“Maa?! This is no language I’ve heard
of.”

Jeac begins to flail his body around
in an attempt to escape. He fears he may be eaten. He touches his face and
pulls the bag he realizes he’s wearing from his head. He looks up and sees a
large, hairy, goat-man.

Jeac reaches down and unbuckles his
stilts from his legs. He plants them in the ground and the goat stops in its
tracks.

“Baa!” It says in an angry tone.

Jeac stands up in defiance of the
goat. The goat bares its teeth and rises onto its hind legs. It lunges at Jeac
and throws a right hook. Jeac takes it hard to the face but throws a jab at the
goats’ neck and stuns it.

“Ha-ha! Take that, chin hairs!”

Jeac grabs the goat by the throat and
slaps it around. “Who are you working for!?”