Private Eye Monologues Chapter 2
Written by BeecroftA
Edited by: DrummerMax64
Artwork by StarWisherMidnight on DA
Benjamin Clawhauser, the ZPD's favorite chubby cheetah, had been receptionist and dispatcher at Precinct One for going on ten years. And during that time, he had seen mammals in countless states of dress, soberness and consciousness pass his desk, and memorized every face that walked through the front door on a regular basis.
And yet, he still almost didn't recognize the lone fox that walked through the door while he sat there munching on his morning cereal.
The first thing that caught his attention was that instead of walking in one side of the revolving door and coming out in the lobby the fox kept going, walking round and round twice before he seemed to realize his mistake and then get out – on the street side. It was only when the fox finally found his way in and made his way to the desk that Clawhauser recognized Officer Nick Wilde.
"NICK?" The cheetah was so surprised he forgot he still had a spoonful of Lucky Chomps halfway up to his mouth.
Nick looked terrible; his fur was scruffy, there were heavy bags under his eyes, and his uniform looked so dishevelled it was almost comical. Nevertheless, a tired smile spread across the fox's face as he ambled up to Clawhauser's desk.
"Heyyy, Claw the Paw! How ya been? You lookin' good, you lose some weight?"
"Uhhh, I'm good, how are you?" Clawhauser responded.
"Oh I'm greeeat! Carrots is great, the kids are great, everything is just great, great, great! How are you?"
"Are you sure you're alright?" asked Clawhauser. "That was a lot of 'greats'."
"Oh I'm fiiine! I mean, it's been a crazy month, but I think I'm getting the hang of this whole dad thing. How could I not be alright?"
Clawhauser gestured at Nick with his spoon. "Well, for one thing, your shirt is inside out."
Nick looked down at himself and realized it to be true. "Oh, jeez!"
"And your tie has a white stain right there."
Nick held up his soiled tie and groaned. "That would be Ridley; he's mastered the art of projectile spit-up."
"And…" Clawhauser squinted at Nick's chest, "I think your badge says 'Judy Wilde-Hopps'."
The fox grabbed at the badge on his chest and turned it upside down to look. "Oh, come on!"
The cheetah couldn't resist a laugh at Nick's expense. "Didn't Judy even notice? You know how freakishly obsessive she gets about uniform neatness."
Nick just glared at him. "Are you kidding? She was so busy with the kits this morning, she barely even gave me a kiss goodbye. We used to kiss a hundred times before breakfast, and now I can't even get one..."
Nick leaned over and rested his head on the edge of the counter with a moan. "Do they ever sleep?"
"What is it, colic?" asked Clawhauser. Nick grunted an 'mm-hmm' without lifting his head.
Clawhauser shrugged and took another bite of his cereal. "Can't help you pal, sorry – I have a niece and nephew I cubsit all the time, and they used to sleep twenty hours a day. I know it's hard for you now, but rest assured, it does get better."
"If I could rest, I would not need assurance," groaned Nick. He stayed there for a few more seconds before jolting himself upright.
"Have you at least had any coffee today?" Clawhauser asked.
"No – I barely had time to get dressed. Carrots had this idea of letting me sleep late, but she was so distracted she forgot to wake me up. Hence the state of my clothing." He gestured down at himself.
"Well, then I've got the perfect present for you," said Clawhauser proudly. He opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a little envelope. "A lot of the guys here have kits of their own, so they know what you're going through. A bunch of us chipped in, and we got you this." He passed the envelope to Nick, who opened it to find a gift card inside: a hundred bucks' worth at Snarlbucks Coffee. Nick was genuinely touched.
"Least we could do – the place just wasn't the same without our favorite bunny-and-fox duo," said the cheetah.
"Thanks," said Nick, tucking the envelope into his pocket with the biggest smile he had felt all day. "Welp! I better get to briefing, can't wait to see the look on Chief Buffalo-Butt's face when he sees I'm back with no Carrots to keep me in line."
And without another word, he left Clawhauser and started making his way for the bullpen. The cheetah smiled, and started back on eating his cereal before he remembered something.
"Wait! Nick, your shirt's still inside out!"
But Nick did not seem to have heard him.
"Welcome back, Nick!"
"How are Judy and the kits?"
"How's parenthood treating ya?"
"Hey! Where are the cigars, Daddy?"
"You look tired – you sure four weeks leave was enough?"
"You okay, Nick? You're looking more sleepy-eyed than usual."
"You okay, Nick? I think your shirt is inside out."
Comments ranging from welcoming to concerned followed Nick into the bullpen as he entered and made his way to the seat he usually shared with Judy. He said his usual hellos, thanked everyone for the gift card and even gave a few high fives, but none of his colleagues needed to be detectives to know he wasn't in his best state. As he climbed up into his chair, he couldn't help but notice how soft the cushioning on the seat was, and how welcoming the wooden tabletop looked to his tired head. The chief wasn't here yet, so maybe he could just rest his head for a minute, catch a few winks before assignments were given out. He closed his eyes…
He was back in 19th-century Liondon, in the seemingly cluttered but actually strategically organized flat he shared with Dr. Hoppson at 221B Barker Street. A jungle gym of glass tubing and other chemistry equipment filled the table on one side of the room, and a massive bookcase crammed with various tomes, textbooks and specimens in jars filled another wall. There was a fire crackling merrily in the nearby fireplace, the skull of a wolf on the mantelpiece surveying the scene. Nick sat at his desk, his feet propped up on its surface, gazing lazily at the hulking figure that stood humbly before him: Chief Inspector Bogo of Spotland Yard. The Cape buffalo wore an incredulous expression on his face while the fox meticulously removed a pinchful of tobacco from the toe of a Purrsian slipper. He used it to fill his ornate Meerkatschaum pipe, lit it, and blew a smoke ring up to the ceiling.
"And that, Inspector Bovidae-Posterior, is my solution to the case of the abominable bunny," stated the detective.
The constable, completely oblivious to the insult that had flown over his head, threw up his beefy grey arms in astonishment. "By Jove, Sherlock Hounds, you do not miss a trick! We in the police force were just plain baffled!"
The fox, ever-incorrigible, waved this off with a dismissive air. "Merely another day's work for the greatest mind in all of Liondon," He took another puff of his pipe, and blew out another smoke ring. "Now, Inspector, do you have any other cases worthy of my time before my flatmate returns?"
"Yes, one," said the inspector. "One Indian elephant, a military officer named Colonel Hathi, checked in at the Grand Hotel just outside Paddington Brown Station last night. He stayed in a room on the top floor, went to sleep at about 11 PM, and awoke this morning to find that someone had removed his trunk while he slept!"
Sherlock Hounds blew out another puff of smoke, nonplussed. "A most ghastly business, Inspector."
"Yes, there were some very important military documents in that trunk. Now, being owned by an elephant, it was a very large and very heavy piece of luggage, and the room was sealed and secured in every possible way! We do not know how the intruder, or two or more, could have possibly entered and taken it without anyone noticing!"
He leaned forward and placed his hooves onto the desk, facing the fox in the chair. "There would be a fine reward for you for the return of those documents!"
Sherlock Hounds calmly brushed some tobacco ashes from the lap of his green windowpane-patterned pants, the lower half of a suit that his partner derided at every possible opportunity but what he himself thought was quite becoming. He stubbed out his pipe and then stood up, straightening the creases on his red silken vest before reaching for the grey scarf, green wool coat, and matching deerstalker cap on the hat rack behind him.
"Then let us go the crime scene, Inspector, although I do believe the journey will be unnecessary, for I have already calculated fourteen possible scenarios for the theft in my head and narrowed it down to three in the time it took me to stand up. I am certain I will have narrowed it down to one by the time we arrive at the hotel."
The fox turned his back to Inspector Bogo, who proceeded to help him put on the pendulous green coat. "The police force of Spotland Yard will be most grateful for your assistance as always, Wilde," said the buffalo.
Sherlock Hounds whipped around, confused. "What was that, Inspector?"
"Wilde…" said the inspector, now sounding angry.
"Yes…?" asked Hounds.
"WILDE!"
Nick sprang up. "Yessir!?"
He was back in the bullpen. Precinct One, Zootopia, present day. And there in front of him stood the real-life Chief Bogo, the buffalo's eyes shooting daggers from his podium. Nick heard a muffled mix of whispers and giggles from the other officers in the room, and felt his face grow warm with embarrassment.
Bogo snorted, and turned to his clipboard. "Now that Officer Wilde has decided to rejoin the land of the living, here are today's assignments…"
While Bogo rattled off the usual round of duties to everyone else present, Nick shook his head, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. That short dream had felt so real, like the PIXAR experience he had undergone the night before; he idly wondered if that was some side effect of using the dream-inducing machine under the influence of sleep deprivation.
"And Wilde…" muttered Bogo.
Nick perked up at attention.
The chief held up his clipboard. "Patrol duty, east Savannah Central."
Nick started to get up to leave, but then the chief stopped him. "Wait! Wilde, a word first, if you please."
One word or several… Nick thought to himself. Normally he would have said that out loud, but somehow this didn't seem like the right time to drive up the chief's blood pressure.
The chief and Nick waited where they were until everyone was out of the room, and then Bogo stepped down, grabbed a chair, and sat down facing Nick. To Nick's surprise, the Cape buffalo did not look angry; in fact, he looked unusually sympathetic.
"Wilde, are you sure you are ready to resume your duties now?" The chief raised an eyebrow, or the spot where an eyebrow would be. "The state of your uniform and the prone position of your head before suggests that may not be the case."
Nick glanced down at himself, and then gazed into Bogo's eyes boldly. "Chief, I know I'm not looking my best right now – in fact I feel more like an extra from the Stalking Dead – but I swear, I am ready to protect and serve again!"
Bogo nodded casually. "I am pleased to hear that, but you would be more than entitled to stay away longer, you know. Four weeks paternity leave is actually very short by our standards at the ZPD."
Nick smirked at him. "Now you're just trying to get rid of me, aren't you?"
"A little, but you cannot deny my concerns are valid."
"Yeah, but I got a family to support now – gotta bring home the bugga bacon and all that."
"Hmm…" The chief gazed intently at Nick for a few seconds, scrutinizing him. "Very well then," the chief finally declared. "You're dismissed."
Nick nodded, got up and started for the door.
"And Wilde?"
Nick spun around. "Yeah?"
"Do fix that uniform first."
An hour later, Nick was riding in his and Judy's old patrol car, the smell of two empty coffee cups and a half-finished third overriding all the other familiar scents inside the cabin. He was definitely more awake now, but a new feeling was starting to overtake his fatigue: loneliness. Besides Judy's absence, this was also the first time he had spent more than five minutes alone in over a month. It was quiet, but it was a deafening sort of quiet. He missed his mate, and he missed his babies. Sure they were colicky now, but he loved their little coos, and their soft fur and the way they smelled… well, maybe not always the way they smelled. Nick had to suppress a sudden desire to drive home just to hold them in his arms again. Maybe for a few minutes at lunchtime…
He was lonely, and he was bored. Patrol duty was dull on the best of days, but without Judy to liven things up the monotony was twice as palpable. And being bored always made him sleepy, which was the last thing he needed right now. The temptation was strong for him to pull over somewhere and just grab a nap, but he couldn't do that. He was an officer of the law, and he was a father now, who had to set a good example for his children. Plus, if a call came in while he was asleep he would never hear the end of it.
And then he remembered the night before, when he had started doing the private eye narration while looking for baby formula. It had been an innocuous task, but narrating it had sure livened things up for him; he had enjoyed doing that little private eye monologue.
Nick looked up at the city skyline in the distance, towering and twisting skyscrapers penetrating the deep blue sky above. And then, once again, narration began to pour from his mouth…
"The towers of Zootopia stand before me, stretching monuments of mammal's progress in the sky. This city believes itself the ultimate monument to progress, where predator and prey alike live in harmony and anyone can be anything…"
He threw back a gulp of hot coffee like it was a stiff drink, and then winced because it burned the back of his throat.
"But there is no (cough) harmony, there is no kumbaya. If there were, I would not be sitting here now. This city is broken, and it needs protectors. Like me, and my leporine consort. But she is home now, tending to the fulfillment of the circle of life…"
He threw back another gulp of coffee,
"…Leaving me alone to do what needs to be done."
He flipped open his shades and slid them over his eyes like Horatio Mane.
"Crime never sleeps, so I in turn must never sleep. I must be ever-vigilant, if I am to have any hope of making this city a better place for my mate, for my mother, and for the two little miracles waiting for me at home."
Feeling a renewed sense of drive, Nick shifted the clutch and zoomed down the street, continuing his stream of narration every step of the way through the rest of his patrol.
One Week Later:
"Woo-HOO!"
It was Judy's first day back on the force, and the grey bunny was nothing short of jubilant at being back in uniform and being behind the wheel of their patrol vehicle again, especially once she had learned she could still fit into her old uniform despite having just had babies. Nick idly wondered if that was a rabbit thing or just because Judy was in such good shape to begin with. His mother had called in her vacation days at work and was now looking after Ridley and Ella every day until Nick and Judy could find a more long-term care option.
"This is GREAT, Nick! Team WildeHopps is BACK! Here and ready to make the world a better place again! I really miss the kids, don't you miss the kids? Ooh, I'm so excited! D'you think the kids will be okay? Do you think your mom will be okay?"
Despite the fact that the twins' colic had shown no sign of waning in the past week and Nick and Judy were still quite sleep-deprived, excitement at returning to work had an energizing effect on the bunny, akin to the time Nick had dared her to try an espresso. The fox smiled and patted his paw reassuringly on Judy's.
"Don't worry, Sweetheart. If my mother is half the caregiver you are, and I know from experience she is and then some, our kits will be in excellent paws for the foreseeable future."
Judy turned to Nick, smiling fondly at him. "Ohhh…I love you." She leaned over and kissed him before turning her eyes back to the road.
Nick leaned back into his seat, smiling contentedly. He picked up his coffee cup and drank a few gulps, and then turned his head to the side, gazing out the window. A minute passed in silence, and then Judy heard something. A voice, coming from Nick, which she had never heard before:
"The return of my partner has brought an uplift on my spirits I have not felt in some time, like a most refreshing dose of tonic. And as we go along on our regularly scheduled patrol through Savannah Central on this characteristically warm day, I cannot not help but feel a rush of déjà vu. It is like we never even left, or this part of our lives simply went on pause the minute we had offspring…"
"Uhhh, what's with the voice and narration?" Judy asked.
Nick shook his face like he was waking from a daydream, and turned back to face her. "Oh, that. You see, I got bored working by myself last week, so I started narrating to spice things up. Cool, huh?"
Judy raised an eyebrow. "Like that guy from Shrew Detective?"
"Yeah, like Rust Vohle. And a bit of Roarschach from Watchmammals too."
"Why them? I thought playing Sherlock Hounds was your thing."
"Yeah, that's what inspired it. But when you think about it, Hounds really didn't narrate at all – that was always Hoppson's thing."
"I'm not going to start narrating for you, if that's where you're going with this."
"Yeah, I thought you'd say that, so I decided to just take my cue from other detectives instead."
"But those guys you mentioned are so downbeat, always going on about hopelessness and nihilism and the whole dark side of mammality."
"Yeah, that got depressing after a while, so I watered it down a bit. Now I'm going for more of the classic style, like The Moletese Falcon and The Pig Sleep."
Judy was nonplussed. "So basically, you're just going to rehash every fictional detective you can think of and use it to narrate our police work?"
"Pretty much," Nick nodded.
"Even mundane things like a simple patrol?"
"Sure. You gotta admit, it makes things more interesting. I mean c'mon, half of our job is boring. Patrol, paperwork, parking duty, all of them dull as dishwater. Narrating makes it more fun, and I do a better job. Everybody wins."
"Maybe…" said Judy with an air of uncertainty.
Just then, their police radio crackled to life. "Dispatch to Car 34, Team WildeHopps, do you come in, over?" came the familiar voice of Clawhauser.
"Oooh!" Judy squealed excitedly before activating the radio. "Dispatch, come in, over!"
"We have a signal 12 – street racer on Berry Lane! Over!"
"10-4, over and out!" stated Judy. She switched off the radio and gave a whoop.
"A street racer, Nick! Just like our first day together!"
"As poetic as the swivel of a bunny's hips!" said Nick, sliding on his shades. "Pedal to the metal, Hoppson! We haven't a moment to lose!"
"Don't call me Hoppson!" Judy barked as she stepped on the gas.