If you have been reading this far…you may have noticed how the narrative is very scattered, almost scatter brained. Kind of like the poem Samir Rochan (who has since gone on to be a full time acrostic poem creator since his job as a coordinator at Song of the Superheroes Agengy)wrote for the acrostic poem convention:

Silly

Cat why are you

Always

Telling me

To cry

Every rainy day

Bring back the

Rich feelings rather then all the

Insane

Niceness masquerading as nastiness

Ending

Dastardly as always

Perhaps this wasn't a good example, but you get the point. I hope. Now back to the story….I hope.

So back in the boxed room of claustrophobic proportions…Sarah is experiencing the strangest interview (if you want to call it such) of her life.

"You know I was just thinking," says Mike. "Instead of all the standing on the desk business you could have just sat in Sarah's lap like you did the last applicant."

"How awfully terribly inappropriate," says Patrick. "That would be giving Sarah the wrong idea completely.

Irony as she kind of picked him up instead, but not in that way of course.

"Fine then!" Mike replies.

"Can we get back to business?" says Patrick.

Yes can we?

"Well, Mr. Patrick Fitzpatrick Orlando Orlando…I mean Patrick," Sarah begins.

"So it's been established I am Patrick," says Patrick.

"I think so?" says Sarah. "Or would you prefer Fitzy?"

"Patrick is fine," says Patrick. "But I wasn't asking you…"

"Then who were you asking then?" says Sarah.

"Oh you know," says Mike. He winks, but it could be a grimace as he is in a lot of pain from his elevator induced injuries. "Sorry I think the morphine is wearing off!"

"Oh my goodness," says Sarah. "Are you aware too?" her spirits almost lifting (almost…)

"Aware of what," says Mike. "That I am in terrible pain, to horrifical to mention?"

"Never mind," Sarah signs. "Horrifical isn't a word by the way."

"Better add spellchecker to the list," says Patrick. "We mustn't misspell our sentences or the narration."

Sarah scoffs, disguised…sorry disgusted.

"So Sarah I will ask you again are you interested in become an employee of Orlando Orlando and Queensburry investigations.

"It seems like a lot of work," says Sarah, as of course she mentioned earlier at some point. "I want to help out, you know become a private investigator too, seeing as I thought that is what the job offer was in the first place, either that or public relations work."

"True, true," says Patrick. "We could hire a secretariat?"

"You mean like a secretary?" Mike asks.

"Same thing," says Patrick. "Secretariat just sounds cooler. Sarah you could be our private investigator and communications officer?"

"Don't forget caregiver and room cleaner!" says Mike.

"Ok so now we must hire a secretariat and a domestic servant," says Patrick. Or in their case a box cleaner. "Oh, oh and a calculator!" he adds. "Sarah you're good with numbers right?"

"I'm a writer, numbers mean nothing to me," says Sarah. "Words are my food, my meaning in life."

It's true numbers are gibberish to the creative minded.

"How profoundly reflective," says Mike "That's like me with meat pies. There is no life with out the flaky pastry and juicy meat with ketchup on top?"

"Do you want a job here or not?" Patrick asks, rather impatient as Sarah doesn't seem to be making up her entire mind.

"Well becoming something of a public relations person might make Bertha come after me again," Sarah laments.

In order to illustrate the importance of Sarah continuing with reporting, Bertha the big brown furry dragon stares at Sarah intently, despite the fact windows were never previously mentioned.

"But I am interested if you are offering the job too me," says Sarah. "I'll freelance under a pseudo name perhaps that will keep Bertha away.

Patrick has been since Chapter nine if I am not mistaken. Sarah of course didn't really have a Plan B which might suggest her lack of enthusiasm to take on temporary career as a private investigator. To state the obvious it would pay the bills, (acting part-time at the Dinuba Dinner was hardly economical) she'd be able to hone her investigatory skills she often uses as a reporter and use her genius with words as the communication officer. There is just one more issue…

"I would also like herbal tea added to the budget if it is not too much trouble," Sarah continues. "Some of our patrons might not drink coffee and it's really unfair to assume a young woman would like hairs on her chest."

"Oh hair in their ears," Mike adds.

"Fine, fine, fine, herbal tea will make an appearance," says Patrick. "Besides Bertha harassing you maybe useful to you, as your first assignment is to help find 39 missing journalists and various other newspaper related staff. She is after all our number one suspect."

"Wait! Why is Bertha still harassing you?" Mike declares. "I readed in the paper she let you go because she decided you were more writer then reporter."

"Well actually she thought I was the writer or am the writer," Sarah replies. "She is on some mad search to find the authoress before anyone else. Finbar and I tricked her into letting me go. According to her I still have 3 months hard time left on my sentence for abandoning journalism. Come to think of it entering into PR will make her even more angry."

"Was this before or after Amanda Buckface (who is also missing) steal her to use her as a hot water heater?" says Mike, again referring to the news story.

"Well," says Sarah. "More like Bertha stole her for some reason or another."

"What's will all the wells Miss Evans?" says Patrick.

"Well." Sarah begins.

"What's with all the subterfuge and half truths?" Patrick asks.

"Well," Sarah starts.

"NO MORE WELLS!" says Mike.

"I suggest you come up with something so Bertha won't kidnap you again," says Patrick.

"I could just tell her I joined you firm so I could write a news story for a magazine or something," Sarah offers.

"Excellent I am glad you are onboard, or at least appear to be," says Patrick.

And now all that is left to find is a secretariat, a domestic servant and a calculator….

Meanwhile….(a term which is entirely cliché, but must be used for these circumstances.) So do you think this cashier (Cashier Insert Name Here) has been eaten? In regards to her life and death encounter with the monster stalking the aisles of Fido-Mart.

The sudden terrifying scream would suggest such a tragic demise, but cashier: 'Insert Name Here' who was accosted by the monster is spared gruesome fate.

The monster catches a scent of an even greater snack near the front of the store at least 10 pregnant old lady men hounding law enforcement.

A sigh of relief is exulted from Cashier Insert Name Here (as her name has yet to be mentioned) as you know only those important enough to be named are put in such terrible danger.

Cashier Insert Name Here abandons the cart and runs down the hall in a flash towards the first hiding space a mere 2.5 seconds away, the jewellery counter where she hides with the fellow jewellery associate (also not named) Two other cashiers and Evan a frail pregnant old lady man.

Poor Evan…

The monster roars echo down the hall. Another pregnant old lady man screams.

What this is terrible! Philis thinks. So she being a manager of all awesomeness calls the Bamboozle Police. (She and the other 60 people in the store!) during this on going altercation.

Minutes later…(minutes too late in regards to at least 10 polms), Officer Octogenarian and Philip Tate arrive on the scene.

"You see New Guy," says Officer Octogenarian standing by the front doors which have been blockaded to keep the monster from escaping.

"It's Philip," says Philip.

"Yeah whatever," says Officer Octogenarian. "I believe I can lure this creature out of here using this. He pulls out a large grey spray bottle.

"Essence of Pregnant Old Lady Man de Toilette," Philip reads.

"I can read you know!" says Officer Octogenarian. "I was showing it to you for dramatic effect. I didn't need you to read it for me."

"I know that!" says Philip. "Maybe I like to read things out loud for even more dramatic effect!"

"Oh so you admit you knew what I was getting at?" says Officer Octogenarian.

"Well not entirely," says Philip. "I presume there is a plan for the spray bottle?"

"Really?" says Officer Octogenarian. "I thought perhaps you understood? Anyways New Guy I'll just spray this essence all over you and the monster will come to you and ummm you know hopefully eat you and then whilst he is eating I will arrest him for the Polm Murders as he was most likely the real culprit all along and I'll be big hero."

"I'm sorry did you say he'd eat me?" says Philip.

"Well I said hopefully," says Officer Octogenarian. "There's a 50 per cent chance he may change his mind and you'll survive. Now hold still…"

"NO WAY!" says Philip. "You do it!"

Officer Octogenarian laughs. "You're really funny! You admit you are funny right?"

"I was told I had no sense of humour a man could understand," says Philip. "Ask someone else to volunteer."

"Oh but you just did," Officer Octogenarian insists rather coyly.

"No I didn't you crazy bastard!"

"Oh so you admit you didn't volunteer to stop a pregnant old lady man killer and go out a hero and as a matter of fact referred to me your superior as a 'crazy bastard'?"

"Clearly?" says Philip. "Why not spray it on some inanimate object and catch him that way?"

"No, no, no Philip it has to be someone meaty, someone not liked! YOU!"

"Oh so now I am not New Guy anymore?" says Philip. He already knew he wasn't liked…

"Suck it up Philip," says Officer Octogenarian. I heard only the first bite is excruciatingly painful."

"Says who?" says Philip, because obviously no one has ever lived to tell tale about being devoured by a man eating monster.

"Well is assumed by there screams of terror," says Officer Octogenarian.

"You jerk!" says Philip. "I'm telling the chief about this."

"Pfft!" says Officer Octogenarian. "Not if you're devoured by the monster you can't."

"Well I'm not," says Philip. "I don't want to be devoured by a monster.

"Too late!" says Officer Octogenarian. The spray bottle held in his beautiful hand regurgitates a fine mist on the new officer Philip Tate.

SMACK! Philip punches the vain officer in the face and sprays him as well, probably to his mutual death, but not likely. A manly man scuffle follows.

"I'm a senior!" says a pregnant old lady man appearing out of nowhere. "And I don't approve of officers of the law fighting."

"We're very sorry sir," says Philip.

"Just a bit of confusion," Officer Octogenarian adds.

Philip glares.

"Well officers since you are here, I have a complaint to make." The pregnant old lady man continues. "Did you know they overcharged me for my Fergarian beans by two cents a can? They were put in the wrong place with the Filby beans, but I don't like Filby beans. It's an outrage! I demand you arrest them!"

"Sir we can't arrest people for price errors," says Philip.

"I wish we could," says Officer Octogenarian. "That would teach them!"

Philip rolls his eyes.

"Oh yeah, oh yeah!" says another polm. "Did you see all those youngin's running around screaming? It's inconceivable, outrageous!"

"There is a man eating monster lose in this store or so I am told," says Philip glaring a Officer Octogenarian.

"Yeah well surely that's illegal. If I ran around screaming like from monsters eating people I'd be fired on the spot."

They obviously had no mercy in his days.

"Excuse me officer!"

"OFFICERS!

"HEY! I have a complaint!

Etcetera…..and so on and so forth.

"Can we help you sirs?" says Philip confused by the onslaught of pregnant old lady men swarming around him and the beautiful officer.

"You should arrest the cashiers for overcharging me!" says the first polm they encountered.

"I got a Monopoly piece stuck up my nose! Call an ambulance," says another random polm.

"Uh?" says Philip "I think this spray was a pregnant old lady men attractor."

"Great now all these poor pregnant old lady men are going to die because you didn't know how to be a man and sacrifice yourself for the greater good," Officer Octogenarian.

"B.S.!" says Philip. "It's not my fault!"

"No swearing young man or I'll wash your mouth out with soap!" says another polm among the dozens.

Well now we know what really happened to the pregnant old men Officer Octogenarian thinks.

"You're officers of the law," the same polm continues, "I expect more from you! If your superior officer said you were suppose to be eaten by a monster to save men you sure hell of should of done it."

"Oh," says Officer Octogenarian, ignoring the polm's rantings and ravings. "I must have misread the label, ergo it's your fault."

"It is not!" Philip argues.

"I demand to know what is going on so I can tell all my friends over coffee!" says a polm. "I pay your salary. I'm a senior!"

ROOOOOAAAARRRRRR!!!!

The monster lumbers towards the crowd of pregnant old lady men, spectators and the two officers. The ground rumbles with each step. The monster who can only be described as (and should have been described earlier!) a bipedal life form resembling a hair ball rolled around in muddy soil approaches his apparent victims around the corner, stopping at the candy display (for Mel-Dog McKennsington Day) near the main entrance. He sizes up his meal licking his lips.

"LUNCH TIME!"

The pregnant old lady men and the officers cower in fear.

"Get him Philis!" says a fellow Fido-Mart manager who resembles a pit-bull masquerading as a woman.

"What! That's terrible!" says Philis. "Bob I thought I told you you're not allowed to show up in here and eat the customers and mess things up it's bad for business!"

"Bob?" says Officer Octogenarian and Philip in unison.

"That's his name?" says the pit-bull manager lady equally confused.

"Clearly," says Philip.

PUNT!

"Owe!" says Bob. "Me hurt!" he glares at Philis. "Mean!" he says pointing a gnarled hairy finger at Philis who is quite small in comparison.

"Nooooo you're mean!" says Philis. "eating poor pregnant old lady men!"

PUNT!

Bob is sent hurtling towards the nearby shelf which comes crashing down pining him down to the floor whilst candy cascades over him in rainbows of relief.

"Owe my kidneys!" says Bob.

"Now you can arrest him officers," says Philis, she winks seductively at Officer Octogenarian.

"About time young lady!" says an angry pregnant old lady man. "I pay your wages."

"Nooooo we're not paid to kill monsters," says Philis. "I did what I had to do to save the day out of the goodness of my heart."

"I'm giving you a Golden Paw for going above and beyond," says the pit-bull manager. "Thank you Penny," says Philis.

"Well officers," says Pit-bull-Penny. "Aren't you going to do something?"

"Obviously," says Officer Octogenarian. "Where officers of the law."

"He tried to get me eaten," Philip whines.

"What! That's terrible!" says Philis.

"I know," says Philip.

"I can't believe you didn't volunteer!" Philis adds.

Why even bother fitting into this universe? Philp thinks. I must be in the wrong story all the characters in this one reject me.

"Well," says Officer Octogenarian. "I am assuming I should remove the hairy beast to the station for questioning. Philip, tranquilizers if you don't mind!"

"We used them all," says Philip.

"To what numb the pain of people hating you?" says Officer Octogenarian.

"No on Mrs. Lachlan's Mum you douche!" Philip replies.

"Oh ummmm right," says Officer Octogenarian. "Lets not discuss this further. Perhaps the pharmacist will have a mild sedative that would work."

"You two should learn teamwork?" says Pit-bull Penny. "I'm going to give you too officers some advice because I see you as I was as a young woman."

"But were men!" says Officer Octogenarian.

"Hardly!" says a pregnant old lady man, missing an entire arm, this tragedy contributed by Bob of course.

"It doesn't matter," says Pit-bull Penny. "The point is…."

"Yeah we don't have time for your helpful advice right now…we're busy," says Officer Octogenarian. "You know being officers of the law and all."

Philip sighs.

"Onwards New Guy!" says Officer Octogenarian. "Use the super indestructible netting of all awesomeness instead."

"Oh so it's not Philip anymore!" says Philip, un packing the netting grudgingly.

"That's only because I figured you were going to die horribly and you should have a proper name, but ummm yes…"Officer Octogenarian replies.

"Hey I am trying to tell you something important here," Pit-bull Penny interrupts.

"I see," says Philip.

"Lets cut this short," says Officer Octogenarian.

Yes lets, so it is and so it shall be….

"Just agree with everything she says," says Philis. "She'll shut up eventually."

Eventually…