Willie Lobster, Detective: PART 4 "Not Much Happens Because Jason Is Getting Burned Out (the second to last installment)""

Willie Lobster started up at the banana thug. The thug's mouth trickled blood. The blood was red. The redness reminded Lobster that he had a weapon hidden under his divan.

The divan was a ratty-looking piece of furniture that Lobster kept for sentimental reasons. Most of these reasons had to do with his bitches. Lobster had, over the course of his life, had several female dogs...they'd loved the divan. They were gone now (just like poor Daniel) but Lobster kept their memory alive with the divan.

Lobster groaned and rolled towards the tattered divan.

"Hey!" one of the banana thugs shouted.

"Get him!" another shouted.

"Mu mufth!" the one with the bloody mouth said.

Detective Lobster stuck his hand beneath the divan and groped frantically for the weapon he'd stashed underneath--because one never knew when one was going to be attacked inside one's home by a rang of bananas.

"Get back! Stay back!" Lobster said, whipping out his secret stashed weapon. "I don't want to...but I'll use this if I have to."

The banana thugs stopped dead in their tracks.

"An apple?" one said.

"Yo, am I trippin' or is that dude holding an apple?" another asked.

The banana thugs were not seeing things, Detective Lobster was indeed brandishing an apple. He'd thought he'd left a 9mm under the divan, but apparently he'd moved it to another (presumably more secure) location.

Instead, Lobster had found nothing but a moldy apple.

"What?" Lobster said. "This is a fucking gun."

He looked at the grimy apple in his left hand. There was a generous dusting of dog hair and dust bunny remnants upon the apples mushy flesh.

"Ha! Ha! This muthafucka is nuts!" one of the banana's said.

"Grab 'em!" the banana leader said, spitting blood onto the floor.

As the thugs descended upon him, Lobster thrust the nasty apple in their direction. The first thug to reach the desperate detective got a face full of moldy apple mush.

"Gah!" the blinded banana shouted, frantically wiping the offensive gunk off his face.

The blinded thug's flailing smacked the second thug, whose gun went off.

Detective Lobster, who'd grown up in a bad neighborhood, wasn't fazed by the gunshot and jumped to his feet and raced towards his front door.

"Oooooawwww!" the lead banana thug screamed. "Youf -hot me! Youf -hot me inna mouf!"

"Oh man...I am so sorry, man."

The trickle of blood pouring out the lead banana thug's mouth was now a geyser of gushing crimson death. This banana's problems were now bigger than a few popped stitches.

"Dude, we gotta take you to the hospital..."

Lobster, meanwhile was racing out the door and down the steps of his apartment building. As he neared his car, he saw that Savanna Koqteese was sitting behind the wheel. Her face was a mixture of concern and constipation.

"Go! Go! Go!" Lobster shouted as he leaped into the car.

A true lady of action, Koqteese didn't question him--she just got them the hell out of there.

"I heard the gunshot and decided to get the engine warm for you," she told him after they'd gone a few blocks.

"You're one helluva woman, Koqteese," he said.

"Where are we going?"

"Shady Street, to see DeJesus's cousin, DeMoses," Lobster told her. "I'm getting to the bottom of this mess..."

"Fine," she said. "Could you do me one favor?"

"Anything, sweetheart."

"Put on your seatbelt."

Lobster, who was never a fan of mandatory safety devices, reluctantly reached back and grabbed his seatbelt.

"These bananas are driving me nuts," Lobster said gravely.

"Did you get your glasses?" Koqteese asked.

A thousand thoughts had been racing though Lobster's razor-sharp mind. Where was his 9mm? Who were these bananas? Why were they trying to kill him? Was Koqteese really a cock tease? Were DeJesus and DeMoses Catholics?

He was thinking about everything...everything but his glasses.

"Damn it," he grumbled.

"What?"

"We gotta go back," Lobster told her. "I forgot to get them."

SCATTERSHOT READERS YOU CHOOSE WHAT HAPPENS NEXT:

DOES KOQTEESE DRIVE THEM BACK TO LOBSTERS APARTMENT?

OR

DOES A CARLOAD OF CLOWNS EXPLODE NEARBY, MAKING BOTH OF THEM FORGET ALL ABOUT LOBSTER'S GLASSES?

Willie Lobster, Detective: A SCATTERSHOT Choose-Your-Own-Adventure

“Mr. Lobster,” Savanna Koqteese said as she entered the cramped office. “I’m in desperate need of your services.”

Detective Willie Lobster looked up from his Jumbo Crossword puzzle book and squinted. It wasn’t because the room was bright, but because he’d forgotten his glasses at home.

“Look Mister, I’m not taking any new clients right now,” Lobster grumbled.

“But Detective Lobster, you’re my only hope.”

“Hope? Hope?” Lobster repeated. “Nope, I’m nobody’s hope…more like a dope. I just realized you’re a dame for Christsake. You can do better.”

“But I want you!” Koqteese said. She bent over and maneuvered her shoulders together in such a way that her massive breasts smooshed together. This erotic display was lost on Lobster, who as previously mentioned had forgotten his glasses at home.

“Look, I’m not taking on any new clients,” Lobster said. “If you want I can recommend a very good fella…does mostly doggie recovery work….”

Koqteese huffed and crossed her arms.

“Mr. Lobster, I don’t need anyone to help me find my doggie!”

“Oh,” Lobster said, shrugging. “Then you ain’t doing too bad, honey.”

Detective Lobster had recently buried his pet spaniel, Daniel. Daniel the spaniel had been Lobster’s pet and life-friend. The two had chased cars and perps for nearly fifteen years. The death of Daniel was one of the reasons why Detective Lobster wasn’t taking on any new clients.

“I lost my license,” Lobster said, revealing the other reason he wasn’t eager to acquire new work.

“But Mr. Lobster, I don’t care about all that,” Koqteese huffed. “I need help—your help.”

Squinting, Lobster tried to tell if Koqteese had smeared her lipstick or if she had a ginger mustache. Lobster couldn’t abide mustaches.

Hell, any facial hair for that matter. Nasty stuff, facial hair, it was always soaking up soup and catching crumbs. If this dame had a mustache she really was barking up the wrong tree. Lobster told her as much:

“Lady,” he said “You’re barking up the wrong tree.”

“Mister, what’s with you and all this dog talk?” Koqteese whined.

It was starting to dawn on her that perhaps she’d made a mistake in coming to Lobster’s office. Koqteese bringing up “dog” made Lobster think of Daniel which caused his eyes to well up with quivering tears.

“Aww, I’m sorry,” he said sniffing. “I got something in my eye, will you excuse me?”

Lobster started to get up and head for the office door, when someone starting knocking on it from the other side.

“I can’t believe I wasted my lunch hour coming down here,” Ms. Koqteese muttered to herself. She followed Detective Lobster over to the front door. She’d come with the intention of hiring Willie Lobster to find her brother, Pedro. Pedro was a good boy who’d just gotten mixed up in some very bad things.

His last job, for example, was selling used cars off Interstate-21.

“I just forgot to take my Claritin this morning,”’ Lobster told her as he whipped the tears from his eyes.

The person on the other side of the office’s door continued to obnoxiously hammer away at the door.

“Alright, alright,” Lobster grunted as he opened the door. “What? Whattdya want?”

Standing in the hallway was a man wearing a rubber banana costume. His tan face poked out from the costume’s round face-hole.

“You Lobster?” the banana man asked.

“Who wants to know?” Lobster said. Again, the Detective had to squint because he’d left his glasses at home.

“Me.”

“Me who?”

“The Top Banana.”

Koqteese’s mouth fell open and her eyes widened. Before the banana man could see her, she ducked behind the door.

“Look, I’ll tell ya what I just told that lady with the stash,” Lobster began. “I’m not accepting any new clients…”

Before Detective Lobster could finish, the man in the banana costume punched him right in the gut. Detective Lobster didn’t have a large gut, but he was middle aged and had very little will power when it came to pasta and savory crepes.

These things tended to add up over time.

“Oof!” Lobster groaned and doubled over.

Staring down at the banana’s feet, Lobster could see a pair of blurry Nikes. There were a few flecks of white powder on them. Lobster noticed the powder because as he gasped for air his eyes narrowed and the world momentarily jumped into focus.

“Jesus…” Lobster wheezed. “Are…you…in…a…fuckin…banana…costume?”

“Hey man, you see me judging you?” the banana man asked.

“Good…point…”

“Look, I gotta split, but before I do remember what the Top Banana says—you listening?”

Detective Lobster shook his head.

“Stay outta the Sunbelt. That’s Banana Town, ya dig?”

Lobster grunted and said, “Oh, is that all? Of course…Sunbelt…stay out…got it.”

It should be noted that Detective Lobster had no idea what the banana man was talking about. But Lobster knew, from years of experience, that one never argues with a costumed bandit. A costume tended to lower one’s social inhibitions, allowing most folk to do things they’d normally know better than to do.

“Oh shit,” the banana man said, suddenly erupting into laughter. “I fucking said ‘split.’ That shit was not intentional, I assure you. I ain’t that wack!”

“No,” Lobster said, still gasping for breath. “Of course you’re not…that wack.”

“Alright Lobster, remember—I got my eye on you.”

And with that the banana man turned and fled down into the darkened hallway. Just as the rubber-suited attacked had disappeared from view, Lobster got his wind back.

SCATTERSHOT READERS YOU CHOOSE WHAT HAPPENS NEXT:

DOES LOBSTER GRAB A TOILET PLUNGER ?

OR

DOES LOBSTER GO BUY A TACO?

VOTE IN THE COMMENTS!!!