Year 10, Week 5
Jan. 14th, 2017 11:29 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rayasoTopic: Fear Is the Heart Of Love
Stan was bored again – he needed a case. He saw a lonely glass of Scotch, just sitting on the bar next to the peanuts, and remembered the time the blonde had told him that she knew she was in love when the songs made sense, but that no matter what, she would never understand “I Am the Walrus.” She had wondered if being afraid of losing someone meant you were in love.
For Stan, love was just another four letter word.
Waiting for a case was hard, but waiting in a good bar made it a little easier. The Hideaway was not a good bar, but he knew the owner. That was who had married the blonde.
That was the past. The future arrived when the barroom door opened and everyone looked up, including Stan. The redhead was that kind of woman, even carrying all those bags. As luck would have it, she was headed his way.
“I can’t find my daughter’s teddy bear, and I heard you were the kid to see,” she said, putting down the diaper bag, her purse, and the baby carrier.
Before he could answer, Burt, the owner, came up to them.
“Stan,” his father said, “how many times have I told you, you can’t hang out here. I could lose my license. How are you, Mrs. Schmidt? How’s the baby? Tell Jim we missed him last night. It was karaoke.”
Stan’s face turned red. “Let’s go to my office,” he said.
“If you mean your bedroom, it's off-limits to visitors unless you picked it up like your mom told you,” said his father.
“Better take her to the Carlton until the cleaning service does its job,” thought Stan. “The office looks like I live there.”
Carlton Park was just a block away, and as playgrounds went, it was pretty classy.
I could use a new client; business has been slow since the Case of the Missing Blankie.
They sat on the bench near the swing set. It was warm and the baby was happy.
“First, there’s my fee. I charge $5.00 per item – no recovery, no charge.” Stan knew it was a lot to charge for a lost teddy bear, but he was a professional.
“Ok,” said Mrs. Schmidt, “Susie’s going crazy without it. It’s been missing two days.”
“Do you have a recent picture of the victim?” Stan asked.
Mrs. Schmidt was ready with one. She looked like a mom who was always ready, maybe too ready.
The picture showed a brown teddy bear, about 14” tall, well-nourished, wearing green velvet jumpers and a red elf hat. This was no ordinary animal; it was clearly a custom job.
“This is a Build-A-Bear, model 34A, with optional blue eyes,” said Stan, who knew his bears. It looked about a year old, clean and well-loved. “Name?”
“Susie calls her Mrs. Bear Bear, or sometimes just Beary,” responded Mrs. Schmidt, her voice catching slightly.
So the kid wasn’t original.
“Where was the bear last seen?” This was important, but it was never where the item was found. That would be too easy, and easy didn’t get paid.
“It was on Susie’s bed, with her other animals.”
If Susie’s bedroom was anything like Stan’s office, it’d be a real jungle.
“Any other kids in the house?”
“There’s Eddie – he’s 12 and in the sixth grade,” said Mrs. Schmidt.
Everyone knew Eddie, especially the hall monitors. Eddie was big for his age, he’d been held back a year, and he was nothing but trouble. Big trouble.
Stan spent the next half hour getting information, and then he went back to his office to pack his action bag, including some weapons. This one could get ugly.
In a case like this, Stan knew there were usually four solutions: house, car, yard, or, god forbid, dog. The family dog was a kitten named Cribbage, so mutilation and burial were out. Stan hated the sick cases.
The Schmidt family car was a Volvo sedan. Stan preferred to roll with a red Schwinn, a little worse for wear, but it still had plenty of gears. A detailed search of the car was negative.
The yard was small and well-kept, with no signs of Mrs. Bear Bear.
The Schmidt's house took time – too much, for Stan’s schedule. He had a date with the blonde and a plate of meat loaf with mashed potatoes coming up. He was really looking forward to that meat loaf.
Stan’s search was thorough – nothing under the sofa, behind the drapes, in the dryer, or any of the dozens of places a bear might like to hide. The most important room was next – Susie’s bedroom.
Susie lives in a dream – a canopy bed, pink walls, and lots of animals. There was a small auxiliary bear, a unicorn, a family of penguins, and plenty of other friends. Someone loved this little girl.
Stan searched the room from top to bottom and back again, including the closet and hamper. Nothing was out of place. There was nothing of interest, either, except one small clue that an untrained observer would have missed.
It was there, next to the bed – a partial footprint, not important to most people, but Stan was different. It contained dust from playground bark, and not just any bark. It was new, which meant it was from the big kids’ playground at school. The little kids still had the old stuff. I guess they just don’t matter as much.
It was a size 11 Air Jordan, and that spelled trouble. Only one kid had feet that big – Susie’s brother, Eddie.
Eddie wasn’t home, so Stan started searching his room. It was a mess. The bed wasn’t made, dirty clothes were on the floor, nothing was put away, and it smelled of cheap body wash and deodorant. Tragic. Maybe the blonde's right about cleaning my office.
Stan found Eddie’s weapons in the closet -- he had a light saber and a rack of Nerf guns. He could see the Rhino-Fire Blaster, a MEGA Mastodon Blaster, two Accublasters, and a couple of empty spaces for who knew what. Those were some serious birthday presents. Stan was definitely outgunned.
Suddenly, he heard the whine of a small motor, and darts began flying at him! A Terrascout Remote Control Drone Blaster was rolling his way, cannon blasting.
Eddie was in the house, but he was using the remote control and couldn’t see Stan, who grabbed the light saber and knocked the drone over. Lots of firepower, but no balance.
Stan grabbed a couple of Eddie’s guns. He had to get to his backpack in Susie’s room.
He could hear Eddie coming down the hall. Stan fired blindly out the door, rolled on the floor, ran into Susie’s room and grabbed his pack.
“What’re you doing in my room?” yelled Eddie. “You’re that weird kid from the fourth grade! Get out of my house!”
“I just want the bear,” said Stan, “turn it over and no one gets hurt.”
“You’re dead meat,” yelled Eddie, and he meant it. Stan was starting to worry -- he had his secret weapon, but he could only use it outdoors. The blonde and her stupid rules!
There was only one way out, and that was through the door. Eddie had it covered by now, so Stan fired a hail of darts down the hall, and ran for it. He took a few hits, but nothing the doc couldn't fix.
Stan made it into the back yard with his backpack and hid behind a bush next to the door. He grabbed his special weapon and held it steady -- he had only one chance.
Eddie burst through the door, not even bothering to fire any covering shots. Stan stood up and threw the water balloon, drenching Eddie.
“You little jerk!" yelled Eddie. “Aaargh! What’s that smell? I think I’m going to puke! What did you do to me?”
“It’s just a little stink bomb I made with my chemistry set,” said Stan. “I call it the Stinkanator. You can’t wash it out, and it lasts for a week.
“Here’s what’s going to happen.” Stan took a small bottle out of his backpack. “This is an antidote. Wash with it, and you can go back to your normal stink -- but to get it, I want the bear.”
Eddie knew when he was beat. “It’s up in the attic, in a crawl space. Gimme the bottle!”
Once Stan had Mrs. Bear Bear, he gave Eddie the antidote and promised not to tell anyone at school about it.
In the end, it was just a case of sibling rivalry, with a side order of jealousy. “They love that little princess more than me,” Eddie complained later. Stan didn’t care -- he’d seen it before, and Mrs. Schmidt was going to have to sort that problem out on her own. It’s not my job; I’m just a private eye with a nose for trouble.
Stan got his $5.00 plus a $2.00 tip. Mrs. Schmidt had a lot of class for a mom.
Back at the Hideaway, the blonde would be waiting with that meatloaf, and if he were lucky, she had held the peas.
Maybe there’ll be cookies, too.
It had been a good day and another case for the books, for the world’s only teddy bear detective.
**********
A big thank-you to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
halfshellvenus for beta-reading this.
THE TEDDY BEAR DETECTIVE
Stan was bored again – he needed a case. He saw a lonely glass of Scotch, just sitting on the bar next to the peanuts, and remembered the time the blonde had told him that she knew she was in love when the songs made sense, but that no matter what, she would never understand “I Am the Walrus.” She had wondered if being afraid of losing someone meant you were in love.
For Stan, love was just another four letter word.
Waiting for a case was hard, but waiting in a good bar made it a little easier. The Hideaway was not a good bar, but he knew the owner. That was who had married the blonde.
That was the past. The future arrived when the barroom door opened and everyone looked up, including Stan. The redhead was that kind of woman, even carrying all those bags. As luck would have it, she was headed his way.
“I can’t find my daughter’s teddy bear, and I heard you were the kid to see,” she said, putting down the diaper bag, her purse, and the baby carrier.
Before he could answer, Burt, the owner, came up to them.
“Stan,” his father said, “how many times have I told you, you can’t hang out here. I could lose my license. How are you, Mrs. Schmidt? How’s the baby? Tell Jim we missed him last night. It was karaoke.”
Stan’s face turned red. “Let’s go to my office,” he said.
“If you mean your bedroom, it's off-limits to visitors unless you picked it up like your mom told you,” said his father.
“Better take her to the Carlton until the cleaning service does its job,” thought Stan. “The office looks like I live there.”
Carlton Park was just a block away, and as playgrounds went, it was pretty classy.
I could use a new client; business has been slow since the Case of the Missing Blankie.
They sat on the bench near the swing set. It was warm and the baby was happy.
“First, there’s my fee. I charge $5.00 per item – no recovery, no charge.” Stan knew it was a lot to charge for a lost teddy bear, but he was a professional.
“Ok,” said Mrs. Schmidt, “Susie’s going crazy without it. It’s been missing two days.”
“Do you have a recent picture of the victim?” Stan asked.
Mrs. Schmidt was ready with one. She looked like a mom who was always ready, maybe too ready.
The picture showed a brown teddy bear, about 14” tall, well-nourished, wearing green velvet jumpers and a red elf hat. This was no ordinary animal; it was clearly a custom job.
“This is a Build-A-Bear, model 34A, with optional blue eyes,” said Stan, who knew his bears. It looked about a year old, clean and well-loved. “Name?”
“Susie calls her Mrs. Bear Bear, or sometimes just Beary,” responded Mrs. Schmidt, her voice catching slightly.
So the kid wasn’t original.
“Where was the bear last seen?” This was important, but it was never where the item was found. That would be too easy, and easy didn’t get paid.
“It was on Susie’s bed, with her other animals.”
If Susie’s bedroom was anything like Stan’s office, it’d be a real jungle.
“Any other kids in the house?”
“There’s Eddie – he’s 12 and in the sixth grade,” said Mrs. Schmidt.
Everyone knew Eddie, especially the hall monitors. Eddie was big for his age, he’d been held back a year, and he was nothing but trouble. Big trouble.
Stan spent the next half hour getting information, and then he went back to his office to pack his action bag, including some weapons. This one could get ugly.
In a case like this, Stan knew there were usually four solutions: house, car, yard, or, god forbid, dog. The family dog was a kitten named Cribbage, so mutilation and burial were out. Stan hated the sick cases.
The Schmidt family car was a Volvo sedan. Stan preferred to roll with a red Schwinn, a little worse for wear, but it still had plenty of gears. A detailed search of the car was negative.
The yard was small and well-kept, with no signs of Mrs. Bear Bear.
The Schmidt's house took time – too much, for Stan’s schedule. He had a date with the blonde and a plate of meat loaf with mashed potatoes coming up. He was really looking forward to that meat loaf.
Stan’s search was thorough – nothing under the sofa, behind the drapes, in the dryer, or any of the dozens of places a bear might like to hide. The most important room was next – Susie’s bedroom.
Susie lives in a dream – a canopy bed, pink walls, and lots of animals. There was a small auxiliary bear, a unicorn, a family of penguins, and plenty of other friends. Someone loved this little girl.
Stan searched the room from top to bottom and back again, including the closet and hamper. Nothing was out of place. There was nothing of interest, either, except one small clue that an untrained observer would have missed.
It was there, next to the bed – a partial footprint, not important to most people, but Stan was different. It contained dust from playground bark, and not just any bark. It was new, which meant it was from the big kids’ playground at school. The little kids still had the old stuff. I guess they just don’t matter as much.
It was a size 11 Air Jordan, and that spelled trouble. Only one kid had feet that big – Susie’s brother, Eddie.
Eddie wasn’t home, so Stan started searching his room. It was a mess. The bed wasn’t made, dirty clothes were on the floor, nothing was put away, and it smelled of cheap body wash and deodorant. Tragic. Maybe the blonde's right about cleaning my office.
Stan found Eddie’s weapons in the closet -- he had a light saber and a rack of Nerf guns. He could see the Rhino-Fire Blaster, a MEGA Mastodon Blaster, two Accublasters, and a couple of empty spaces for who knew what. Those were some serious birthday presents. Stan was definitely outgunned.
Suddenly, he heard the whine of a small motor, and darts began flying at him! A Terrascout Remote Control Drone Blaster was rolling his way, cannon blasting.
Eddie was in the house, but he was using the remote control and couldn’t see Stan, who grabbed the light saber and knocked the drone over. Lots of firepower, but no balance.
Stan grabbed a couple of Eddie’s guns. He had to get to his backpack in Susie’s room.
He could hear Eddie coming down the hall. Stan fired blindly out the door, rolled on the floor, ran into Susie’s room and grabbed his pack.
“What’re you doing in my room?” yelled Eddie. “You’re that weird kid from the fourth grade! Get out of my house!”
“I just want the bear,” said Stan, “turn it over and no one gets hurt.”
“You’re dead meat,” yelled Eddie, and he meant it. Stan was starting to worry -- he had his secret weapon, but he could only use it outdoors. The blonde and her stupid rules!
There was only one way out, and that was through the door. Eddie had it covered by now, so Stan fired a hail of darts down the hall, and ran for it. He took a few hits, but nothing the doc couldn't fix.
Stan made it into the back yard with his backpack and hid behind a bush next to the door. He grabbed his special weapon and held it steady -- he had only one chance.
Eddie burst through the door, not even bothering to fire any covering shots. Stan stood up and threw the water balloon, drenching Eddie.
“You little jerk!" yelled Eddie. “Aaargh! What’s that smell? I think I’m going to puke! What did you do to me?”
“It’s just a little stink bomb I made with my chemistry set,” said Stan. “I call it the Stinkanator. You can’t wash it out, and it lasts for a week.
“Here’s what’s going to happen.” Stan took a small bottle out of his backpack. “This is an antidote. Wash with it, and you can go back to your normal stink -- but to get it, I want the bear.”
Eddie knew when he was beat. “It’s up in the attic, in a crawl space. Gimme the bottle!”
Once Stan had Mrs. Bear Bear, he gave Eddie the antidote and promised not to tell anyone at school about it.
In the end, it was just a case of sibling rivalry, with a side order of jealousy. “They love that little princess more than me,” Eddie complained later. Stan didn’t care -- he’d seen it before, and Mrs. Schmidt was going to have to sort that problem out on her own. It’s not my job; I’m just a private eye with a nose for trouble.
Stan got his $5.00 plus a $2.00 tip. Mrs. Schmidt had a lot of class for a mom.
Back at the Hideaway, the blonde would be waiting with that meatloaf, and if he were lucky, she had held the peas.
Maybe there’ll be cookies, too.
It had been a good day and another case for the books, for the world’s only teddy bear detective.
**********
A big thank-you to
halfshellvenus for beta-reading this.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2017-01-15 02:04 am (UTC)Cute story!
no subject
Date: 2017-01-15 02:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-01-15 12:43 pm (UTC)This made me laugh.
There is something about the image of a leggy redhead being deferential to a little boy detective that tickles me to no end. I can just see a future adventure where an older girl tries to seduce Stan with a kiss and he is overcome by cooties.
no subject
Date: 2017-01-15 03:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-01-15 07:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-01-15 09:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-01-15 11:06 pm (UTC)I am obsessed with your cleverness! What a beautiful blend of gritty noir and childhood importance.
no subject
Date: 2017-01-16 12:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-01-16 01:24 am (UTC)I loved the inner monologue
no subject
Date: 2017-01-16 08:04 am (UTC)I love how his mom's The Blonde, and his dad the owner of the bar.
Great work!
no subject
Date: 2017-01-16 08:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-01-16 09:25 am (UTC)It's so important to have an auxiliary bear for real emergencies. = )
This was great fun - nice job!
no subject
Date: 2017-01-16 03:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-01-16 03:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-01-16 03:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-01-16 03:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-01-16 05:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-01-16 07:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-01-16 07:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-01-16 08:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-01-16 10:01 pm (UTC)“Better take her to the Carlton until the cleaning service does its job,” thought Stan. “The office looks like I live there.”
And
“What’re you doing in my room?” yelled Eddie. “You’re that weird kid from the fourth grade! Get out of my house!”
Hahahahaha! Excellent! I am so glad you wrote this and that I got to read it.
no subject
Date: 2017-01-16 10:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-01-17 12:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-01-17 01:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-01-17 01:05 am (UTC)