The world's greatest sleuth: Detective Dill Doe.
I awake to the sight of a grown man fondling himself.
"Sorry. The plums get a bit itchy during stake outs." the man says. He pulls out a pair of binoculars from his pocket and stares at the apartment building across from us. I also notice a plate of half eaten steak on his lap.
"Um...who are you?" I looked around. I'm in the passenger's seat of a surveillance van. The ground is littered with bottles of beer, porno mags, ammunition boxes, and forks.
"Name's Doe. Detective Dill Doe. World's greatest sloth."
"You mean sleuth?"
"That's what I said."
"No, you literally just said-"
"Shush. I'm about to crack this case wide open. Ripe for a pounding." Detective Doe said.
"You're looking at the binoculars the wrong way." Sure enough, he was, who promptly turned the lenses round.
"Who are you, anyway?" the detective asked.
"Um. I'm Blahgarfogar. I wrote you."
"You wrote me?"
"Seems that way."
"..."
"..."
"You some kind of techno musician?"
"No, I'm not a techno musi-"
He leans in close, so close that I can smell the salad dressing from his neck. "I'm not your father, am I?"
"Oh, god no!"
"(Sighs) Oh, thank god. So, Blahgarfofarts-"
"It's Blahgarfogar."
"So, BalloonGarfield, you gonna help me solve this case or what?"
"Solve-You're not even concerned that I am the one responsible for your existence?"
"Shh, there she is. Our perp. Looks like she's with someone else. Wow, he's attractive. But not as attractive as me. Because I'm Doe. Detective Dill Doe." His eyes narrow.
"Who is she?" I asked.
"Doesn't matter. We need to follow her. Don't worry. I'm good at tailing people." A twist of the key prompts a pathetic sputtering cough from the engine. The detective shifts into gear, backs into an orphanage, then drives towards the two suspects.
Detective Doe pulls up in front of the two, then points to me. "BallsGroper, get the woman. I'll take on that bastard."
"Wait, I thought we're just gonna tail them? My name's not BallsGroper-"
He was already out the door. With an exasperated sigh, I chase after him.
"STAY AWAY FROM HER!" screams Dill at the top of his lungs. He tackles the attractive man to the slick pavement, throwing punch after punch. He was beating him harder than he does his own meat on a lonely Thursday night.
"Dillon! What the fuck are you doing here!" shouts the blonde.
"Protecting. You. From. This. Moron!" responds Dill between punches.
"We're been divorced for two years, Dill! That's Tracy, my boyfriend! God, you are such an asshole..."
"Who names their son Tracy?" said Dill.
I arrive at the scene, out of breath. "Hey, hey get off of him." I pry the sweaty middle aged man off of the suspect and attempt to diffuse the situation.
"Who the hell are you?" asks the blonde. She's gesturing towards me.
"I'm Blahgarfogar. I don't know how I got here-"
"Blahgarfogar? What are you, some kind of techno musician?" asks the blonde's boyfriend.
"Dill, I'm calling the cops." She tends to Tracy and helps him get up. Even more startling, the beatdown given by Dill has made him even more good-looking, giving him a rugged yet distant expression.
"No, please. Baby, I still love you. Babe! Hey, remember that time I made love to you? Huh? It was our special night, right? Granted, you were a bit plump and I had you put on that T-Shirt you got from that team building exercise at your work-" pleaded Dill.
"Get away from me. You're a dick, Dill Doe." interrupted his ex-wife. ...
"So you're saying that you got transported here by accident and helped this Detective assault his ex-wife's boyfriend, and that you believe that you're in the world of fiction?" asked the police officer.
"I'm tellin' you the truth?"
"Try harder kid. Besides, I don't trust techno musicians."