Unfortunately, I don't own John Deer. Or Stephen King.
FuchsiaII- Thank you once again for the extended review! I hope this next chapter is amusing...I'll apologize ahead of time for my use of uber CAPs in this chapter...
xlawa- love you, too lol:D
Langdon rushed into the recently assembled 'men's bathroom' set. Upon entering the room, Langdon swiftly undid the night janitor's fine cleaning job by throwing up all over the bathroom floor. "Holy shit! They're gonna kill me!" he said aloud, wiping barf from his mouth with the back of his hand. "Ewww" came a voice from the back of the bathroom. Leaping backwards, Langdon saw Sophie standing above him, a disgusted scowl twisting her heavily colored lips. Some throw up had gotten on her tall, black boots.
"What are you doing here?" demanded Langdon as he scuttled backwards across the bathroom floor, looking somewhat like an upside-down crab, if a crabs wore tweed, vomit stained suits. "I'm the one who told ya ta come here in ths first place." said Sophie with a sigh almost as heavy as her eye-liner. "I know that!" said Langdon indigently, standing slowly so as not to crack his fragile Harvard joints. "Why are you in the men's bathroom!" he clarified. "Wouldja rather let the commish see you goin into the ladies room?" asked Sophie, snapping her gum for emphasis. Langdon considered this. He had quite a few questions about the commissioners sexual orientation, and that man was big enough to get away with anything. Langdon didn't want to invite any trouble. "Not really, no." Langdon admitted as he repaired his damaged comb-over, and replaced his imitation John Deer hat.
"Well from my phone message, ya know you are the commish's prime suspect for the murder of Jacques Sauniere. What cha don't know is that ya are being watched right now!" said Sophie, waving her fingers around like a witch to drive home how creepy that was. "The French people are gonna kill me!" whimpered Langdon, hiding next to a urinal and curling up under it's protective ceramic dish. "Naw they aren't. But commish is really convinced that yer guilty. It's just evidence gettin in the way." said Sophie, fluffing her hair absently. "...which is why they are gonna KILL ME!" said Langon, his voice rising in a frantic crescendo.
The commissioner, standing down the hallway, heard only 'KILL ME!'. Shaking his head, the man commented to a fellow police officer, "If it's that bad, he should really eat some more fruit." The other officer nodded in reply, and wondered why the commissioner was petting his head.
"Shh!" hissed Sophie. "Doncha know the commish will hear yah?" Langdon whimpered and clung to the pipe below the urinal. "Why do ya think the commish is gonna kill ya? It ain't that bad!" said Sophie, sounding exasperated. "This is France! You guys still behead people here! Vive la Revolution and all that junk!" Langdon explained, his voice shaking with fear. "No we don't." said Sophie. She could forgive him for making the mistake, however. This was a common misconception among tourists. "Yes you do! I saw a guillotine out there! Near the museum!" said Langdon hysterically. "That was a gas pump." said Sophie. Langdon uncurled from beneath the sink, tentative as a baby deer. "French history was never my 'thing'." admitted Langdon as he pulled a scrap of toilet paper from his hat. "So why do you want me to escape from the commissioner if he isn't going to kill me?" asked Langdon curiously while he tried to clean the pee from his pants.
"Well, ah wanna help you cause your innocent. But I also want help decodin Jacques Sauniere's final message. Which was to me. 'Cause I'm his granddaughter. By the way." Langdon's left eye twitched. He was used to being talked to very slowly, as Harvard academics are wont to do to each other. Sophie's words were very fast and filled with non repetitive information. And she had boobs, which was distracting.
"Wait...hold on.." said Langdon clutching the bridge of his nose, and holding out one hand, "So you weren't the whore of the dead guy? You are the grandfather...no...granddaughter of the dead guy?" he said slowly. Sophie nodded, picking absently at her nails. "And...the message on the floor was to you?" asked Langdon. "Yeah. Oh and I forgot, there was a fourth line that said 'P.S. Find Robert Langdon'. That's the main reason why the commish is framing you." said Sophie, nibbling at her nail now. The words were again above Langdon's pace. His left eye began to twitch with the difficultly of processing speech so quickly, "So..if you are cryptographer, then why do you need me to help you interpret your grandfather's last message?" asked Langdon. Sophie sighed with annoyance, accidently snapping of her nail which was fortunately, false. "Why ya gotta ask stupid questions like that, hmm? Yah gonna help me or do ya wanna get thrown in a french jail by the bisexual commish?" asked Sophie, running out of patience. Robert Langdon had, in fact, read "The Shawshank Redemption" by Stephen King, and he was well aware of the sexual abuse a tiny man like himself would have to endure. He did not want to end up as the sex toy of some hardened prisoner called 'Smacky' or something. Though he thought his question had been a good one, Langdon agreed to assist Sophie. She nodded happily, "Right! Let's blow this joint." she said, snapping her fingers evilly.
Silas was sitting in a car outside of a church. Quickly, he took two handguns, a rifle, a pair of brass knuckles, the Punjab Lasso, a silver bullet, a steak knife, a stake and a grenade launcher out of his cloak before stepping out of the car. Weapons of death have no place in a church. Except if that weapon of death is found inside the church. In which case, it is perfectly okay to kill someone with it. Savvy? He thought. Outside was freezing, a cold french wind toying with the hem of his cloak. It's fucking freezing out here! Can't they make these cloaks out of like, fleece or something? Thought Silas bitterly. Then, he realized he had used a curse word in his thought process, so he punched himself in the stomach for penance. Self stomach-punching was something that had taken years of practice, but Silas was able to do it.
The albino rapped the door of the church to the rhythm of 'My Humps', but Nobody answered at first. "Hey Axel, do you know if the nun who keeps this place is in?" asked Silas. The Nobody nodded and said, "Yeah sure, let me go get her." Silas thanked Axel, then began rubbing his hands together, cackling with evil intent. But he wasn't actually evil. Just misunderstood. Keep that in mind.
For about five minutes, Sophie recalled how she had some mysterious falling out with her grandfather. They had not been in contact for years, but then he suddenly called her that she was in danger. I guess by me you meant you. Thought Sophie, over complicating the message Or did you mean that we were both in danger...I'm so confused. She thought, her head spinning. "How do you do that? It's like 'The Exorcist' or something." said Langdon, referring to Sophie's spinning head. Stopping her head, Sophie apologized, "Sarry 'bout that. Anyway, we gotta getcha outta the Louve. Lemmie see that soap." she demanded. While Sophie was reflecting on her young adult trauma relating to her grandfather, Langdon had begun to write messages on the walls in soap. There was really no apparent reason for this, and most of the notes were things like the lyrics to that blue canary song by They Might Be Giants and crude pictures of naked stick-figures having sex.
Hurriedly, Langdon gave the soap to Sophie. "Now reach in your pocket and pull out what's in there." Sophie commanded. Langdon did as bade. He pulled out what appeared to be The One Ring to Rule Them All. "Other pocket." said Sophie, heaving a record breaking sigh. Langdon held out the contents of his 'other' pocket, which included a ball of lint, a pocket protector, a small baggy of cocaine, a single unused tampon and a GPS tracker. "How does the tampon affect me getting out of the Louve." asked Langdon, as though that was the only object in his pocket which bore any possible relevance to the situation at hand. "It doesn't, and I don't I don't even want to know why you have that. It's the GPS tracker I need."
Before Sophie's ingenious ploy is revealed, let's examine it from the point of view of the police commissioner, shall we?
The GPS dot which had been tracking Langdon's every movement flew out the bathroom window. "Holy shit! Langdon just killed himself!" shrieked a junior officer.
Then the dot began to zoom away really fast, "Holy shit! He jumped on top of a truck and now is going away at speedy speeds!"
The commissioner turned red, then purple, then and interesting shade of blue before he finally overcame his rage enough to take a breath. Once that particular challenge was surmounted, his fellow police officers knew they were in for a ranting. "GET EVERY SINGLE OFFICER OUT OF THE LOUVE! I WANT THIS CRIME SCENE TO BE EMPTY OF HUMANITY! IF ANY OFFICER REMAINS BEHIND AT THE MUSEUM, I WILL FIRE THEM!" he shrieked. The other officers, impressed by the liberal use of CAPs in their commissioner's speech, ran out of the museum at top speed, as though the commissioner's words were chasing them and nipping them painfully in the butt and ears.
"Sir? Shouldn't someone stay behind and like, watch the crime scene, just in case Langdon like, returns to the scene of the crime? Or something..." the police officer trailed off when he saw the rage in the commissioner's eyes and nose ring. "I'll be going..." said the police officer in a voice so faint that describing it as a 'whisper' would be a gross exaggeration of the tone. Before the police officer could go anywhere, the commissioner began to bludgeon the poor fellow with a night stick. Remember: 'Police brutality' only applies to police on suspect violence.