Somewhere Down A Large Hole In The Ground...

Somewhere down a large hole in the ground, a live video feed jumped into action. It was voice sensored, so whenever any one spoke in that room, the feed came to life.

"Action on Screen 1" said a monotone computer voice that sounded rather bored. This was completely understandable in this situation as just saying things like Action on Screen 11 is hopelessly unexciting. If it had something more interesting to say, it might not have sounded so monotone in the first place.

"Ah. My little friend, the former Sir Lance! In prison already. Perfect." The man spoke to no-one in particular as there was no-one in particular except for him and the bored computers down there in the first place. He watched as the deflated Lance Alotus walked solemnly into the room with his back hunched. The man settled down to enjoy the show...

"Lance Alotus, formerly Sir Lance Alotus, former PI and wine dealer. Correct?" The policeman always felt it was best to start like this. Otherwise, it might get messy when he ended up interviewing the wrong man who was supposed to be a woman. Anyway.

"Yes. That is a precise description. I like the use of your short sentence to add dramatic effect to our conversation. However, you missed out the fact that i am 5ft 10."

"Right. Cigarette??" asked the policeman casually.

Lance thought for a moment. Mr D didn't tell him if he wanted one. Or even if he liked cigarettes. Hmm. What to do?

"Thankyou, but no thankyou. He didn't say i wanted one, so i guess i don't."

The policeman was very confused. They had only been in here for 3 minutes and already, Lance was driving him round the bend. Lets just get this over with he thought.

"Fair enough. Now to business. Where were you on the night when 114 Private Investigators were killed by a poison in their wine?"

"Well, you are in fact the policeman. I think it would be preferable if you tell me as it is obvious from your expression that you already know." Lance thought that he was being rather clever.

The policeman was startled by this. Never before in his career had he had an interview like this! Maybe it was time to retire and buy a goat.

"Uh, well, I suppose I, uh, do."

Lance looked complacent in his chair, despite a splinter denting his spine from the wooden frame. The policeman supposed that he should try again.

"Can you confirm for me that you were infact at the party for celebrated Private Investigaters when 114 out of 116 of them were killed?"

Lance now looked puzzled. "Well, you have previously stated in this discussion that you know where i was. Why ask me to confirm something you know to be utterly true? Look, if you cast your eyes in this direction, you will see evidence of direct confirmation of the statement."

The policeman looked at where Lance was pointing. It would seem that Lance had been taking notes of the questioning. He had never seen such a proposterous thing in his whole career; not even on the telly!
The policeman looked up, stared at Lance with a certain awe, as if he couldn't quite believe what was happening to him. How was this guy in any way a criminal? Him? A mass murderer?

"Right", said the policeman in a definate tone. "You stay here and i am off to buy a goat. Good day."

Lance was baffled. In all of his previous encounters with policemen, he had never met one who kept goat. He had seen one who collected scars and tattoos, but never goats.
'Oh well', he thought. He waited there for 4 minutes and 27 seconds, just enough time to over hear the policeman he had been interviewed by telling his boss that he was resigning and needed to use the phone to call his wife and tell her about their new, prosperous career to breed goats. He also learnt that the policemans name was Billy Kidd and that Officer Kidd didn't even like goats...

After the time of 4 minutes and 27 seconds had passed, another policeman entered the room. His name was Sergeant Johnson and Lance was pleased to notice that this officer collected tattoos and scars instead of goats. He was dark skinned, tall and muscly

"Hello Sergeant." said Lance, standing up to shake his hand. The Sergeant Johnson looked at him up and down as if to say "Are you for real?".

"They said you was a nut and i said nah, he's just one of dem guys who needs a bit of teachin' in the ways of bein' a criminal and all. But i fink i was wrong. You is a nut, man. You seriously took notes? We aint at school bruv!"

Lance stared in awe at Johnson. "Sergeant, i think that you are the one in need of an education. That was horrific. There were 9 grammatical and enunciation errors in those sentences alone. You need help and fast." Johnson was sort of enjoying this in an odd fashion. He always liked a prisoner who needed roughing up a bit and he thought that Lance was perfect...

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Back somewhere down a large hole in the ground, Mr D was frustrated. Why did Lance have to be so damn correct and right about everything. He was beginning even to have a mini-Lance voice in his heading correcting his every word and fault of judgement. The sooner he was dealt with the better.

"Action on Screen 4" said the computer. Normally, Mr D ignored the computer when it said this, but there was something notably different about the way he said it. It sounded excited. Not totally over the top excited but a couple of degrees between monotone and jubilant. He turned to face the monitor and was astounded with the result. He almost could not believe his eyes....

The End

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