WATCHING THE DETECTIVES

KOJAK

Hello, Detective, where are you going?

Call me Theo

Theo, that’s a nice name

Yes it is

Is that your lollypop?

Yes it is

It looks sweet

Yes it is

I want you

Yes you do

I love you

Yes you do

You’re so direct

Yes I am

Tell me something to break my heart

Who loves ya, baby?

Ohhhhhh, Theo!

When a picture paints a thousand words, then why can’t I paint you?

You really do it to me

Yes I do

You’re the main man

Yes I am

Ohhhhhh, Kojak, you’ve done me again!

Yes I have

13 Kojak

 

QUINCY

QUINCY

‘I swear I saw it, I did, I did,’ says the lippy horseman pointing back towards the island.

‘You saw what, may I ask?’ asks the armless one.

‘Fungus Face, Mister Mask the Fungus Face! He made some bad ju ju down there.’

‘Do do?’

‘Ju Ju! He do an autopsy or something on someone or something, I don’t know what. Couldn’t make it out.’

‘You should go back and make it out,’ says the armless one.

‘Come on! Who do you think I am, Poirot or Quincy?’ asks the horseman

‘Quincy.’

‘And who do you think he is?’

‘Quincy.’

‘Well, I’m not going back, not for you, not for no one, not even for Quincy.’

 

POLICE! CAMERA! ACTION!

creep

 

Police! Camera! Action!

Another disaster programme done and dusted, and the TV anchor-man made from slime and Milk Tray slips away to the park. Clothes off, neck hair swept back, his metamorphosis into a creeping creeper creep happens within his own moving fog of smug. His form glides as much as it hunches and when he arrives in the park he sets about worrying the deer by whispering crime statistics and the phrase ‘buckled Austin Princess’ into their hot felt like ears. ‘Bastards’ is a word he savours for unsettling the stags, their bony coat stands tensing as if they might rut and cut at any moment. But as quick as he was there, he’s gone again. Back to the studios and into his early evening television suit, a Chaplin dung stain mopped off his top lip by his adoring assistant, his tiny hooves clasping the calf insoles of his smart heeled shoes.

Smile! Smarm! Action!

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About dogsbodiesandscumsters

Alan McCormick has been writer in residence at Kingston University’s Writing School and for InterAct Stroke Support, a charity employing actors to read to stroke patients. His fiction has won prizes and been widely published, including the Sunday Express and Salt’s Best British Short Stories 2015. His story collection, with micro-fiction inspired by Jonny Voss's pictures, 'Dogsbodies and Scumsters', was long-listed for the 2012 Edge Hill Prize. Alan has recently completed his second collection, Wild in the Country, as well as a memoir, Holes. See more of Alan and Jonny's collaborations at www.scumsters.blogspot.co.uk.
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