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MR. MONK AND THE MOSH PIT
---CLUB TWISTERS---
Marvin Sneeds pushed his way through the sold out crowd for his favorite energetic slash melodic punk band. He felt his glasses fogging up, the air was so hot with all the sweaty people rocking out. He took them off and quickly rubbed them with his shirt-sleeve.
He suddenly felt himself shoved by a girl with hot pink hair. He bumped into a large guy with a shaved head and more earrings in his ear than he could count. He mumbled a "sorry" and backed away. The guy gave him a dirty look.
"Wanna start trouble, buddy?" the guy sneered.
"No, nah man. Course not." Marvin felt his face flush.
"Marvin was the kid of guy no one would notice even if he stepped in front of a bus on a crowded street. No, the only way anyone would notice him was if he did something personally to them. Of course it was always an accident but no one ever saw it his way. He was an accident to humankind, he thought sadly.
"Hey, you!" Someone shouted at Marvin from behind him. Thinking it couldn't be him, he didn't know a soul here, he didn't turn around. But the voice persisted.
"HEY, YOU!"
Marvin turned around and at this point his glasses had just started to fog up again. He squinted and walked towards the voice. All he could see was a haze. A faint outline of a man, he thought.
"Yes?" He asked still squinting.
His glasses were so fogged up now he couldn't see anything.
Suddenly he felt a sharp gasping pain in his gut as the figure rushed into him with a knife.
He tried to shout but his stomach muscles were in too much pain. He sank down on the crowded dance floor. The other punk rockers were oblivious that anything had happened and continued jumping in time to the music.
---THE NEXT DAY, CLUB TWISTERS---
Monk walked carefully around the debris from the previous night's concert. Capt. Stottlemeyer surveyed the scene as well, motioning for the other officers to stand back. Sharona was on stand-by with a fresh pack of wet wipes handy.
Suddenly Monk lifted up his shoe to see a huge hunk of pink bubble-gum stuck to the bottom. He made a whimpering sound and held his foot up in the air.
"Sharoooonaaa," he whined.
"Just scrape it off, Adrian," she replied smugly knowing he wouldn't. He gave her a look that could melt steel.
"Ok, ok," she said walking over to him. He was holding his foot about two feet off the ground and was starting to lose his balance. She gingerly wiped the gum off of his shoe.
After the incident, Monk only stood in one place to survey the dance floor.
"Captain?" he called.
"What Monk?"
"About what time was the time of death?" Monk asked.
"What? I can't hear you Monk, you'll have to come over here!" The Captain shouted over the hum of officers talking.
"No,. . . that's ok," Monk replied, "I'll just. . . stand right here."
"Adrian, what are you doing?" Sharona asked bewildered, "We need to know this kind of stuff."
"Yeah, uh I know. I just don't want to move from this spot. There could be more-more gum on the floor. Nah, I'll just stay here. I'll be fine." He responded.
Sharona threw her hands up in exasperation. "Fine! I'll go talk to him."
"Gee thanks, thank you Sharona. Keep up the good work!" Monk called after her.
She returned a few moments later, "Ok, time of death was about 10:35 p.m., right about when the main band was on."
Monk nodded, "Ok, let's go talk to them."
---WITH THE BAND---
Monk and Sharona headed into the lounge area in the back of Twisters to talk to the band. The four guys were seated in a couple of cozy leather armchairs, their feet propped up, looking quite relaxed.
They were dressed in the most punked-out fashion possible. One guy had neon green hair in spikes so long they looked like knives. Another guy had so many piercings all over his face, you'd wonder how he could get through a metal detector. And another was wearing a black fishnet t-shirt with outrageously pink plaid pants. The final guy was wearing several spike chokers that looked ready to stab someone and he had enough bracelets on his arms to resemble a gypsy.
"Hey, what's up?" the guy with the green hair said.
Monk froze.
"What's wrong?" Sharona whispered.
"I-I can't go in there," he replied looking like a deer in headlights.
"What? Why not?"
"I-I just can't. I have to g. . go NOW," he said and turned towards the door.
"Hey, you're shaking." Sharona realized, "Don't worry, it's ok. They won't hurt you, they just look tough."
"Na. . . nah, you go. I'll just wait out here." He said.
"You're the detective here , not me" Sharona pointed out.
"Oh. . . oh yeah. Right. Well I'll just come back then. . . someday. . .maybe not. . ." He started inching towards the door.
Sharona latched onto his arm, "Let's go." She said firmly and dragged him inside.
"Whoa!" Monk cried as he stumbled in. The guys all stared at him. Monk carefully straightened his suit and twitched his neck to the side.
"My. . my name is Adrian Monk. And this," he turned to face Sharona, "is my assistant Sharona Fleming. We just. . . want to ask you some questions. About last night."
"Hey Baby," the guy with the pink pants nodded to Sharona. Sharona rolled her eyes. Monk looked disgusted.
"Um, anyways, who's the singer?" Monk asked.
The guy with the piercings raised his hand.
"Figures" Monk muttered, "Uh did you see anything happen last night? Any fights break out?"
"You mean more than usual? Nah man. Everything seemed cool. We really rocked last night, the crowd loved us," the singer replied, "Hey you should come check us out tonight," he suggested.
Monk looked apprehensive.
"Uh, I don't know. . . about that," he began.
Sharona nudged him, "C'mon Adrian. You'll be right there if anything happens again. How much closer to the case can you get?"
Monk considered, "Well okay. We'll be here. What time does the show start?"
"Well it starts at 10," the singer explained, "But we don't go on until 11. Our opening band goes first, Wink 242."
"Ten?" Monk squeaked, "At night?"
"Uh yeah," the guy with the chokers replied looking at Monk funny.
"D-don't you people ever sleep?" Monk protested.
The pink pants guy laughed, "Nah, not really."
"Don't worry about it" Sharona whispered to him, she said aloud to the band, "we'll be there."
"Great," the singer replied winking at Sharona.
She sighed and turned towards Monk. He looked like he was in a daze.
"I. . . I have to stay up late?" he whimpered.
Sharona sighed again, "Yes, my goodness what time do you go to bed?"
"Eleven."
"Well so what? It's an extra hour or two you'd have to stay up. Big deal," she answered.
"Big deal? BIG DEAL?? This throws off my entire nightime routine! Everything all gone to pieces! All gone!" He sobbed into his shirt-sleeve.
Sharona stared at him, "Ya know Adrian, I have to say you certainly are never boring."
He continued whining about his situation.
"C'mon," she said grabbing his arm, "let's go put your house in order so we won't have to mess up your -" she held her hands up for quotation marks, " 'routine' tonight."
MR. MONK AND THE MOSH PIT
---CLUB TWISTERS---
Marvin Sneeds pushed his way through the sold out crowd for his favorite energetic slash melodic punk band. He felt his glasses fogging up, the air was so hot with all the sweaty people rocking out. He took them off and quickly rubbed them with his shirt-sleeve.
He suddenly felt himself shoved by a girl with hot pink hair. He bumped into a large guy with a shaved head and more earrings in his ear than he could count. He mumbled a "sorry" and backed away. The guy gave him a dirty look.
"Wanna start trouble, buddy?" the guy sneered.
"No, nah man. Course not." Marvin felt his face flush.
"Marvin was the kid of guy no one would notice even if he stepped in front of a bus on a crowded street. No, the only way anyone would notice him was if he did something personally to them. Of course it was always an accident but no one ever saw it his way. He was an accident to humankind, he thought sadly.
"Hey, you!" Someone shouted at Marvin from behind him. Thinking it couldn't be him, he didn't know a soul here, he didn't turn around. But the voice persisted.
"HEY, YOU!"
Marvin turned around and at this point his glasses had just started to fog up again. He squinted and walked towards the voice. All he could see was a haze. A faint outline of a man, he thought.
"Yes?" He asked still squinting.
His glasses were so fogged up now he couldn't see anything.
Suddenly he felt a sharp gasping pain in his gut as the figure rushed into him with a knife.
He tried to shout but his stomach muscles were in too much pain. He sank down on the crowded dance floor. The other punk rockers were oblivious that anything had happened and continued jumping in time to the music.
---THE NEXT DAY, CLUB TWISTERS---
Monk walked carefully around the debris from the previous night's concert. Capt. Stottlemeyer surveyed the scene as well, motioning for the other officers to stand back. Sharona was on stand-by with a fresh pack of wet wipes handy.
Suddenly Monk lifted up his shoe to see a huge hunk of pink bubble-gum stuck to the bottom. He made a whimpering sound and held his foot up in the air.
"Sharoooonaaa," he whined.
"Just scrape it off, Adrian," she replied smugly knowing he wouldn't. He gave her a look that could melt steel.
"Ok, ok," she said walking over to him. He was holding his foot about two feet off the ground and was starting to lose his balance. She gingerly wiped the gum off of his shoe.
After the incident, Monk only stood in one place to survey the dance floor.
"Captain?" he called.
"What Monk?"
"About what time was the time of death?" Monk asked.
"What? I can't hear you Monk, you'll have to come over here!" The Captain shouted over the hum of officers talking.
"No,. . . that's ok," Monk replied, "I'll just. . . stand right here."
"Adrian, what are you doing?" Sharona asked bewildered, "We need to know this kind of stuff."
"Yeah, uh I know. I just don't want to move from this spot. There could be more-more gum on the floor. Nah, I'll just stay here. I'll be fine." He responded.
Sharona threw her hands up in exasperation. "Fine! I'll go talk to him."
"Gee thanks, thank you Sharona. Keep up the good work!" Monk called after her.
She returned a few moments later, "Ok, time of death was about 10:35 p.m., right about when the main band was on."
Monk nodded, "Ok, let's go talk to them."
---WITH THE BAND---
Monk and Sharona headed into the lounge area in the back of Twisters to talk to the band. The four guys were seated in a couple of cozy leather armchairs, their feet propped up, looking quite relaxed.
They were dressed in the most punked-out fashion possible. One guy had neon green hair in spikes so long they looked like knives. Another guy had so many piercings all over his face, you'd wonder how he could get through a metal detector. And another was wearing a black fishnet t-shirt with outrageously pink plaid pants. The final guy was wearing several spike chokers that looked ready to stab someone and he had enough bracelets on his arms to resemble a gypsy.
"Hey, what's up?" the guy with the green hair said.
Monk froze.
"What's wrong?" Sharona whispered.
"I-I can't go in there," he replied looking like a deer in headlights.
"What? Why not?"
"I-I just can't. I have to g. . go NOW," he said and turned towards the door.
"Hey, you're shaking." Sharona realized, "Don't worry, it's ok. They won't hurt you, they just look tough."
"Na. . . nah, you go. I'll just wait out here." He said.
"You're the detective here , not me" Sharona pointed out.
"Oh. . . oh yeah. Right. Well I'll just come back then. . . someday. . .maybe not. . ." He started inching towards the door.
Sharona latched onto his arm, "Let's go." She said firmly and dragged him inside.
"Whoa!" Monk cried as he stumbled in. The guys all stared at him. Monk carefully straightened his suit and twitched his neck to the side.
"My. . my name is Adrian Monk. And this," he turned to face Sharona, "is my assistant Sharona Fleming. We just. . . want to ask you some questions. About last night."
"Hey Baby," the guy with the pink pants nodded to Sharona. Sharona rolled her eyes. Monk looked disgusted.
"Um, anyways, who's the singer?" Monk asked.
The guy with the piercings raised his hand.
"Figures" Monk muttered, "Uh did you see anything happen last night? Any fights break out?"
"You mean more than usual? Nah man. Everything seemed cool. We really rocked last night, the crowd loved us," the singer replied, "Hey you should come check us out tonight," he suggested.
Monk looked apprehensive.
"Uh, I don't know. . . about that," he began.
Sharona nudged him, "C'mon Adrian. You'll be right there if anything happens again. How much closer to the case can you get?"
Monk considered, "Well okay. We'll be here. What time does the show start?"
"Well it starts at 10," the singer explained, "But we don't go on until 11. Our opening band goes first, Wink 242."
"Ten?" Monk squeaked, "At night?"
"Uh yeah," the guy with the chokers replied looking at Monk funny.
"D-don't you people ever sleep?" Monk protested.
The pink pants guy laughed, "Nah, not really."
"Don't worry about it" Sharona whispered to him, she said aloud to the band, "we'll be there."
"Great," the singer replied winking at Sharona.
She sighed and turned towards Monk. He looked like he was in a daze.
"I. . . I have to stay up late?" he whimpered.
Sharona sighed again, "Yes, my goodness what time do you go to bed?"
"Eleven."
"Well so what? It's an extra hour or two you'd have to stay up. Big deal," she answered.
"Big deal? BIG DEAL?? This throws off my entire nightime routine! Everything all gone to pieces! All gone!" He sobbed into his shirt-sleeve.
Sharona stared at him, "Ya know Adrian, I have to say you certainly are never boring."
He continued whining about his situation.
"C'mon," she said grabbing his arm, "let's go put your house in order so we won't have to mess up your -" she held her hands up for quotation marks, " 'routine' tonight."