I updated chapters one and two. All Monk characters in this story are not owned by me. I have no authority over them. Other characters are mine, though.
CHAPTER ONE
MR. MONK ORGANIZES HIS CLEAN
So, who am I? I am Natalie Teeger, former bartender. I know, my life is amazing! But seriously, I do get my kicks. I work for Adrian Monk, who quite possibly could be the greatest detective of all time! But, the bad part is: He has OCD. And, all I really have to do is hand him Wet Ones Wipes, bottles of Sierra Springs, and drive him. But wait! There's more! I get paid less then a kid's weekly allowance! How do I live like this? I ask myself this every morning, but do I have an answer? No.
All right, so how is it that I get my kicks from that? I don't. I lied. Well, can you blame me? You barely know anything about me, but I can tell you're felling sorry for me. Well, if you are sorry now, just wait till I tell you this.
My husband, Mitch, died in Kosovo on a mission. People say he was a coward, and ran away from his men, but I know in my heart of hearts, that is not true. So now I am forced to take care of my twelve-year-old daughter, Julie. Now you have to be sorry. Well, don't be. I hate all that pity stuff. If anyone, be sorry for my boss. (In case you have the mind of a peanut, his name is Adrian Monk.) A while back, his wife, Trudy, was killed in a car bomb explosion. And because of that his phobias and OCD went into complete overload, which cost him his job on the SFPD.
Now, he is a private consultant to the police Department, called in constantly by his friend Captain Leland Stottlemeyer and Lieutenant Randy Disher. But his only real goals in life are to solve his deceased wife's murder, and regain his badge and rightful spot on the SFPD. (Oh, and destroy all germs on this planet. (And the next.))
It was Saturday, Julie was off with some poor, unsuspecting mother at a sleepover party doing God knows what with her friends. I was curled up on my couch reading a book when my cell rang, and whadaya know, It was Captain Stottlemeyer, again...
"Is Monk with you?" He asked
"Excuse me? It's eleven PM, why would he be with me?" I said.
"Sorry, Natalie, I'm just really aggravated about this new case."
"At this hour?"
"Hey! Crime stops for no man!" He had me there. I asked for the address and said Mr. Monk would be there shortly.
When I reached his apartment, I found that he was still up. He was organizing his new cleaning products.
"What are you doing here at this hour, Natalie?" He said.
"And a hello to you to Mr. Monk. Stottlemeyer needs your assistance on a new case. Now hurry up and follow me."
"Just a minute, let me finish."
"No, we have to go now. I'm getting tired and the sooner we get this over the better!" He started to put a Lysol can left of a Windex bottle. Probably because they were both yellow and in alphabetical order. Oh God! I'm starting to think like him!
"Finished!" He said after about fifteen minutes.
"Please tell me you're not jo- Oh, right. Now come on we're late!" I said. We walked outside to my Jeep, and drove off to the horizon of yet another murder.