A disinterested MacGuffin drops a major clue; a greedy Zamazda’s interest is piqued; Step presses upon them from behind the door
Enter Welsh Losser; the publishing Ferret’s Kyiv Edited office, deadly rival of Kyiv Unedited
Ngoogie, my fur-shocked friend! Boss Lard says we have to find something called The Script. Nyaha, he says if we find it, it will tell us exactly what to do. It’s of the utmost importance – a matter of life and death – nya-a-hoo.
Heh-heh, who’s Boss Lard to me, or I to Boss Lard, that I, the publisher of the alternative scathing, nonpareil and inimitable underground Internet magazine, Kyiv Edited, should do his bidding? Let him find the so-called Script himself, if it’s so important to him – yeah, heh-heh-heh…
But, nyagoo, my friend – and Welsh Losser moves to gently touch The Ferret’s humped shoulder, but the latter writhes wildly away:
HEEEEEHHH… so, you had sex on Venus, heh, but now you want to touch me?!
Sex?!? Nya-a-a-ookroo… Shh-har-snoogy… I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about! I would never –
Oh, heh, and wouldn’t you? Don’t try to play me for a chump; I know all about it. Did Boris and Heinrich take you to the sewage deltas of Venus?
Why, yes they did.
And is that a land of grass without mirrors?
Why, yes it is.
Heh – and while there, did you have an encounter with a green boy-girl, who, aside from their slight greenish tint, not dissimilar to my own, can be characterized as colorless vampire creatures, also not dissimilar…heh…?
Why, yes, yes, but –
And did that encounter culminate in a seemingly inadvertent yet irresistibly alluring meeting of the mouths and a fatal neck-breaking for the delicate hermaphroditic Venusian creature?
Why… yes… yes it did…
Heh-heh, heh-heh, HEEEEEHHH!!! You traitorous imbecile! That was its orgasm-in-death! You apostate infidel! It released its fetus into your stomach – it, it… you, you… no-good lying cheating unfaithful backstabbing two-faced double-crossing…
But as The Ferret’s arms slice the air furiously and out of all control in his jealous tirade, Welsh Losser, seemingly without loss of composure, pulls out a can of Venus Jelly, uncaps the lid, and scooping out a large dollop with his fingers, forces the jelly into The Ferret’s contorted mouth, soon provoking his forked tongue to languidly search Welsh Losser’s hand for more…
Heh, heh, um – gulp, gulp – hey, heh-heh-heh, that’s good, that’s… uh, um, yum… can I have some more, give me more… what is it, what is it? It’s, heh, heh, heh, heh… really good – ooohh, aaahh, ooohh – coo, coo, coo…
Nyugooshkies – now, wasn’t that good, my hard-shelled, fur-lined friend? So you see, there’s no cause for these senseless outbreaks. You know I like nothing better than your tadpole legs… Nyagraya-eeech…
Yeah, yeah, heh-heh, I don’t know what came over me. Do you also like the one with the black hairs on the calf that twitch when you rub it just above the knee?
Ooo – hayachi – I especially like that one, my good, good friend!
Yeah, heh, and what about The Script?
I don’t know. Something tells me we should call Y.I. MacGuffin – our good and very private recluse friend who usually has all the answers but is too disinterested to give them out.
Heh, you mean the one who spends most of his time drinking stout in the basement bar called Cockney on a Jade reading fat Medieval English poetry books and whom you never tire of comparing to Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock Holmes’s smarter brother who always has the cases solved before Holmes does but is never interested enough in bringing the solutions to light unless asked?
That’s the one – ngiii…
Call him – heh-heh-heh… call him, call him!!!
Hello – is this Y.I. MacGuffin? … Ah, yes, Y.I., this is Welsh Losser – aaahh, I’m here with The Ferret, and, well, you know – nyug-ha-ho – we were just wondering, in passing as it were, while having a conversation about far more pressing matters, if you knew anything about something called… ehem… The Script… Ah, what’s that you say? It’s the quinte… come again; you’re breaking up… aha uh-huh… I’m writing this down… the quin-te-sen-tial – what was that? Okay, got it, got it, re-e-e-e-ed he-e-e-e-erring. So, what you’re saying, Y.I., is that The Script is The Quintessential Red Herring. Gotcha! Thanks! Yeah, yeah, ngoyoo, sure, sure, see you some time. Give my best to the – aaahh, either the line broke or Y.I. MacGuffin hung up. Well, nyahoo, no matter, my friend, for we’ve got ourselves an answer!
Yeah, heh, but what the fuck’s a red herring?
No, he didn’t say ‘a;’ he said ‘the’ – specifically; repeated it several times. Nope, there’s no doubt about it – to find The Script, we have to find The Red Herring.
Heh-heh, heh-heh-heh-heh-heh…
Enter, Zippy Zamazda, Kyiv Edited Chief Editor:
Hey, I heard what you two guys were saying. No one’s going to keep me out of The Script. I demand to be included, or, or… or else…
Heh, yeah, yeah, okay, you’re included. Go back to work, and when we come up with something, we’ll let you know – heh-heh-heh…
We-e-ell, o-o-okay… you’d better… beca-a-a-a-ause…
When suddenly:
Knock knock knock…!!!
All three freaks lurch their humped shoulders in fright: Who’s there?!
At the door:
The name’s Jack Step [Ed. Note: or Dirk Dickerson pretending to be Jack Step]. I know you know who I am. I suggest you let me in. I just have a couple of questions for you…
Filed by Jack Step, July 7, 2013