Title: Split
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: I don't think there's any, actually!
Summary: This whole story is meant to be funny and thus things might seem, uh, "out of character" at certain points in the story. And I don't want to give anything away, so just read it and let me know what you think.
Notes: This is a complete parody story that I wrote one afternoon for a larf. It turned out to be more popular than I expected, so I continued it, and, like most things I write, it's a work in progress. Enjoy!
***
"Move over, Sam," Special Agent Jack Malone whispered to his fellow agent, Special Agent Samantha Spade. "I'm coming," he whispered, tiptoeing past Samantha, sliding along the wall of a darkened hallway inside of a nearly vacant apartment house, deep in the heart of New York City.
"Be careful, Jack," Samantha whispered in reply, tightening the grip on her Glock as they approached apartment 29-B.
Jack and Samantha had been following up on a lead concerning a kidnapping. The victim was a fourteen year old female, and she had been missing for over a month and a half. They had received an anonymous tip from someone saying that the victim could be found in the Parkside Apartments in 29-B. Even if it their anonymous friend turned out to be wrong, the least they could do was follow up on a legitimate lead, seeing as how the last time the girl had been seen was on the front steps of the convenience store across the street from the Parkside Apartments with an unidentified middle- aged male.
"Michael Juarez?" Jack asked, lightly tapping on the door, tucking his gun under his belt. He motioned for Samantha to do the same, as they were only there to investigate, not arrest. "Hello? This is Special Agent Jack Malone of the FBI, and I'd like to ask you some questions about Angelina Ramirez." No answer.
"Something smells fishy about this," Samantha whispered, and Jack nodded.
"You're not kidding," he replied, making a sour face as Samantha pulled the door open, surprised to see that it was unlocked. They both tentatively stepped inside the reeking apartment, closing the door behind them.
Inside, the apartment was a mess. Newspapers covered in animal excrement littered the floor, along with numerous large cardboard boxes, empty cans of cat food, some cement blocks and other building debris, and large plastic bags, some full of garbage, some full of cans and bottles waiting to be returned to the store for a deposit. The smell was overpowering. Jack and Sam exchanged a look as two kittens came out of a bedroom to investigate who was there.
"Call animal control," Jack instructed, carefully stepping over and in between piles of feces. "I don't think anyone's here," he continued, stepping into the first empty bedroom, peering inside the empty closet and stepping out. "This place is unbelievable." He proceeded to check the first empty bedroom and the small kitchenette, while Samantha placed the call in to Animal Control.
"Hello, this is Agent Samantha Spade of the FBI. I'm calling about some kittens which are living under the care of Michael Juarez..." Samantha finished the call in right around the time that Jack walked out of the second bedroom, his search of the apartment complete. "Did you find anything?" Samantha asked, her eyes wide and expectant. Jack shook his head.
"There was one thing that made me curious, though," Jack began, a smile playing on his lips. "Come with me," he said, motioning for Samantha to follow him. He lead her into the second bedroom and over to a small crawlspace-closet, which had a thick padlock over the small door.
"What do you think is in there?" Samantha asked, trying to pull the tiny door open, which didn't budge. She leaned in closer and took a whiff of the small door. Almost gagging, she promptly backed away, gasping for air. "Oh my god," she gasped. Jack grimly nodded.
"Perfect place for a small body, don't you think?" he asked, helping her up.
"Yeah, perfect place for something," she responded as they headed out towards the main door. "If we can get some kind of warrant, even one based on—" Samantha motioned around the cluttered, messy living space, "This mess from Animal Control, we can find out what's in that closet before it gets moved..."
Samantha's voice trailed off as a noise filled the room. Their heads snapped in unison towards the door as they saw the handle turn. Instinctually, Jack and Samantha pulled out their guns and took aim at the door. A second later, the door opened and in walked a small, greasy little man with thick coke bottle glasses.
"Hmmm," the small man pondered, looking around at Jack and Samantha, guns drawn. He waddled over to them, inquisitively.
"Who the hell are you?" Jack asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. Samantha caught the slight change in Jack's voice and dropped her gun, resuming her call to animal control.
"I am Michael Juarez," the man screeched in a voice that could make a chalkboard jealous. "Who are YOU?" he squealed.
"I'm Special Agent Jack Malone with the FBI, and this is Special Agent Spade," Jack answered, not quite believing that this little shrimp in front of him was the big, bad Michael Juarez.
"Hmmm," Michael thought aloud. "What do you WANT?" he screamed, adjusting his glasses which had slid down his grimy nose.
"Uh, we wanted to talk to you about a Angelina Ramirez," Jack answered, a smile threatening to break out on his face. This Michael Juarez character was just too much.
"HHHMMMM..." Michael answered, his voice going up an octave. Samantha and Jack exchanged a look.
"Do you know her?" Samantha asked, taking over the questioning, while Jack tried to wipe the smile off his face.
"Hmmm..." Michael thought, calculating an appropriate answer. "I met her once!" he finally squealed, looking around nervously. Jack raised an eyebrow.
"Hey, Michael," Jack began, leaning in close to the shorter man. "I have a question for you," he continued, leading Michael and Samantha into the second bedroom. "What's in there?" he asked, pointing to the small closet, which was just the right height for Michael to walk into.
"Why do you need to know that?" Michael asked nervously.
"Look, we already called Animal Control to come and take care of those kittens you have living in this shit hole of an apartment, and we can get a warrant from them, if you'd like. Or," Jack finished, a sardonic smile taking shape on his face, "You can open it for us."
"Hmm..." Michael thought, finally jumping forward and kicking Jack right in his shin. Samantha instantly reached to pull out her gun, but Michael was too fast and had already raced out of the room.
"SHIT," Jack cursed, rubbing his leg. "That pipsqueak must have steel-toed shoes..." he said, pulling out his gun and following Samantha out the door.
"Cover me," she said, sliding around the wall and aiming into the main room of the apartment. Michael was nowhere to be seen. Scanning around the room, Samantha finally turned to Jack. "Where did he go?" she asked, keeping her gun up.
"We would've heard him open the door," Jack answered, looking around the mess and clutter. "He's got to be here...somewhere..." He looked around the room again, which was quiet and still, except for the kittens lazily rolling around in the corner.
Jack and Samantha stepped further into the room and began kicking around boxes, trying to find the short man. After about five minutes of searching, a noise from behind Jack made him stop and turn around. As he did so, Michael popped out from behind a box and smashed Jack over the head with a cement block.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: I don't think there's any, actually!
Summary: This whole story is meant to be funny and thus things might seem, uh, "out of character" at certain points in the story. And I don't want to give anything away, so just read it and let me know what you think.
Notes: This is a complete parody story that I wrote one afternoon for a larf. It turned out to be more popular than I expected, so I continued it, and, like most things I write, it's a work in progress. Enjoy!
***
"Move over, Sam," Special Agent Jack Malone whispered to his fellow agent, Special Agent Samantha Spade. "I'm coming," he whispered, tiptoeing past Samantha, sliding along the wall of a darkened hallway inside of a nearly vacant apartment house, deep in the heart of New York City.
"Be careful, Jack," Samantha whispered in reply, tightening the grip on her Glock as they approached apartment 29-B.
Jack and Samantha had been following up on a lead concerning a kidnapping. The victim was a fourteen year old female, and she had been missing for over a month and a half. They had received an anonymous tip from someone saying that the victim could be found in the Parkside Apartments in 29-B. Even if it their anonymous friend turned out to be wrong, the least they could do was follow up on a legitimate lead, seeing as how the last time the girl had been seen was on the front steps of the convenience store across the street from the Parkside Apartments with an unidentified middle- aged male.
"Michael Juarez?" Jack asked, lightly tapping on the door, tucking his gun under his belt. He motioned for Samantha to do the same, as they were only there to investigate, not arrest. "Hello? This is Special Agent Jack Malone of the FBI, and I'd like to ask you some questions about Angelina Ramirez." No answer.
"Something smells fishy about this," Samantha whispered, and Jack nodded.
"You're not kidding," he replied, making a sour face as Samantha pulled the door open, surprised to see that it was unlocked. They both tentatively stepped inside the reeking apartment, closing the door behind them.
Inside, the apartment was a mess. Newspapers covered in animal excrement littered the floor, along with numerous large cardboard boxes, empty cans of cat food, some cement blocks and other building debris, and large plastic bags, some full of garbage, some full of cans and bottles waiting to be returned to the store for a deposit. The smell was overpowering. Jack and Sam exchanged a look as two kittens came out of a bedroom to investigate who was there.
"Call animal control," Jack instructed, carefully stepping over and in between piles of feces. "I don't think anyone's here," he continued, stepping into the first empty bedroom, peering inside the empty closet and stepping out. "This place is unbelievable." He proceeded to check the first empty bedroom and the small kitchenette, while Samantha placed the call in to Animal Control.
"Hello, this is Agent Samantha Spade of the FBI. I'm calling about some kittens which are living under the care of Michael Juarez..." Samantha finished the call in right around the time that Jack walked out of the second bedroom, his search of the apartment complete. "Did you find anything?" Samantha asked, her eyes wide and expectant. Jack shook his head.
"There was one thing that made me curious, though," Jack began, a smile playing on his lips. "Come with me," he said, motioning for Samantha to follow him. He lead her into the second bedroom and over to a small crawlspace-closet, which had a thick padlock over the small door.
"What do you think is in there?" Samantha asked, trying to pull the tiny door open, which didn't budge. She leaned in closer and took a whiff of the small door. Almost gagging, she promptly backed away, gasping for air. "Oh my god," she gasped. Jack grimly nodded.
"Perfect place for a small body, don't you think?" he asked, helping her up.
"Yeah, perfect place for something," she responded as they headed out towards the main door. "If we can get some kind of warrant, even one based on—" Samantha motioned around the cluttered, messy living space, "This mess from Animal Control, we can find out what's in that closet before it gets moved..."
Samantha's voice trailed off as a noise filled the room. Their heads snapped in unison towards the door as they saw the handle turn. Instinctually, Jack and Samantha pulled out their guns and took aim at the door. A second later, the door opened and in walked a small, greasy little man with thick coke bottle glasses.
"Hmmm," the small man pondered, looking around at Jack and Samantha, guns drawn. He waddled over to them, inquisitively.
"Who the hell are you?" Jack asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. Samantha caught the slight change in Jack's voice and dropped her gun, resuming her call to animal control.
"I am Michael Juarez," the man screeched in a voice that could make a chalkboard jealous. "Who are YOU?" he squealed.
"I'm Special Agent Jack Malone with the FBI, and this is Special Agent Spade," Jack answered, not quite believing that this little shrimp in front of him was the big, bad Michael Juarez.
"Hmmm," Michael thought aloud. "What do you WANT?" he screamed, adjusting his glasses which had slid down his grimy nose.
"Uh, we wanted to talk to you about a Angelina Ramirez," Jack answered, a smile threatening to break out on his face. This Michael Juarez character was just too much.
"HHHMMMM..." Michael answered, his voice going up an octave. Samantha and Jack exchanged a look.
"Do you know her?" Samantha asked, taking over the questioning, while Jack tried to wipe the smile off his face.
"Hmmm..." Michael thought, calculating an appropriate answer. "I met her once!" he finally squealed, looking around nervously. Jack raised an eyebrow.
"Hey, Michael," Jack began, leaning in close to the shorter man. "I have a question for you," he continued, leading Michael and Samantha into the second bedroom. "What's in there?" he asked, pointing to the small closet, which was just the right height for Michael to walk into.
"Why do you need to know that?" Michael asked nervously.
"Look, we already called Animal Control to come and take care of those kittens you have living in this shit hole of an apartment, and we can get a warrant from them, if you'd like. Or," Jack finished, a sardonic smile taking shape on his face, "You can open it for us."
"Hmm..." Michael thought, finally jumping forward and kicking Jack right in his shin. Samantha instantly reached to pull out her gun, but Michael was too fast and had already raced out of the room.
"SHIT," Jack cursed, rubbing his leg. "That pipsqueak must have steel-toed shoes..." he said, pulling out his gun and following Samantha out the door.
"Cover me," she said, sliding around the wall and aiming into the main room of the apartment. Michael was nowhere to be seen. Scanning around the room, Samantha finally turned to Jack. "Where did he go?" she asked, keeping her gun up.
"We would've heard him open the door," Jack answered, looking around the mess and clutter. "He's got to be here...somewhere..." He looked around the room again, which was quiet and still, except for the kittens lazily rolling around in the corner.
Jack and Samantha stepped further into the room and began kicking around boxes, trying to find the short man. After about five minutes of searching, a noise from behind Jack made him stop and turn around. As he did so, Michael popped out from behind a box and smashed Jack over the head with a cement block.