Hello I'm not one to come out to the streets often but today I've decided to change that and I'm here to announce a new writing competition for everyone to participate in.

Independently financed. Independently judged. Decent prize pool and a small incentive for participation. Everyone is welcome to participate.

Judges will not be disclosed to avoid tampering. The prize pool has been secured and payouts will occur no matter what!

Prizes:

1st Place - 25 Credits

2nd Place - 15 Credits

3rd Place - 10 Credits

Writing prompt: You find the body of your missing friend in a small alleyway behind the restaurant he worked in. He is clutching a piece of paper with your name written on it, tomorrow’s date and an address uptown. (Minimum word count of 100)

Deadline for submissions will be the 19th of August at 23:59.

If you have any questions please contact me HERE. 

LSD, its good to see the prizes set out in a fair and correct manner. There can not be any confusion or mistakes on this fair competition. My accountant has noted tax write off in the way of perks, a fair amount. So if you feel the need/want to up the ante pop me a message and i can add some bits to the prize pot.

We've already seen an overwhelming amount of support for this venture. Due to this support I am pleased to announce that the prize pool and the participation rewards will be increasing!

The new Prize Pool will be as follows:

1st Place - 25 Credits, 1 Quad CA, 1 Super VIP, 2 Normal VIP, 5 Hangover Cure Perks

2nd Place - 15 Credits, 1 CA, 1 Super VIP, 2 Normal VIP, 3 Hangover Cure Perks

3rd Place - 10 Credits, 1 Super VIP, 1 Normal VIP, 2 Hangover Cure Perks

Everyone who enters the Competition will also receive a reward!

(All prizes and participation rewards will be given out at the conclusion of the competition. Payouts can be claimed by next of kin with verifying information)

Good luck to everyone who enters! 

PureBloodedTexan we appreciate the kind words of support and remember we will have a spot for you here if you do choose to enter. We welcome people of all skill levels and background. No need to be an expert to compete!

You find the body of your missing friend in a small alleyway behind the restaurant he worked in. He is clutching a piece of paper with your name written on it, tomorrow’s date and an address uptown.

Snatching the note his friend Frederico was holding, and wiping the marinara sauce off, before re-reading the note and stuffing it in his pocket, Cinnamon looks around the alleyway anxiously. Still empty, fortunately.

As the pangs of emotion struck Cinnamon like raw bolts of lightning, he reached down and closed the eyes of his dear friend and sat him up against the wall before moistening the mans lips with a nip of whisky - the good Scottish kind.

"Fare thee well, old friend. This travesty shall not go unavenged."

Standing up as he dried his eyes, Cinnamon's brow lowered into a scowl. Searching his pockets for his gun, he turns and strides towards the main street, pausing at the corner to survey the open street - taking cover at just the right moment at a horse and carriage clip-clops past.

"I need a fuckin drink" he thinks to himself, as he runs off to the nearest speakeasy to drown his sorrows.

After several hours of drinking the finest scotch the bar stocked, innumerous cigarettes, 3 lines of columbia's finest and a cheap hooker in the toilet, the image of his friend continues to linger in the front of his mind. Pulling out the note, his eyes narrow and a plan begins to formulate in the man's inebriated head, causing him to stumble towards home.

Waking up to a ferocious hangover, Cinnamon lurches towards the bathroom, but ends up in an ignominious pile on the floor beside his crumpled clothes.

"Fuckin cunt..." he mutters as he begins to pick himself up, he sees the note again and the memory of his dead friend - Frederico - flashes into his mind, the image of his blood stained friend searing into his memory once again.

"Fuck this, I'm goin." Cinnamon announces to an empty flat.

Following an hours worth of daily ablutions, and bodily ejections, Cinnamon is ready. As he walks out to his car - an overly flashy and expensive motor, parked in one of the most run-down and deprived areas in the Windy City, several men respectfully acknowledge him with a knowing nod, numerous children who have heard tales of woe about the young man's exploits flee, and one woman faints - presumably as a result of being so turned on at the sight and smell of the handsome mobster.

Driving across the city to the designated address, Cinnamon realises the area is becoming more affluent. Whilst the people of Chicago still recognise him as a man of honour, respect and untold verbosity, the fear of him becomes less acute with one man even shouting something about relations of an intimate nature with his own boss. Looking in the rear-view mirror, he watches as the lifeless body collapses onto the pavement.

As he pulls up a block short of the address, Cinnamon gets out of the car and crosses the road, to get a better view of the building. Striding over to the doorway, he knocks. Then again. As the door bolt unlocks, Cinnamon grasps his snub-nosed pistol tightly.

"Who's there?" comes a frail female voice with an Italian accent.

Hiding the gun again, Cinnamon adjusts his clothes to better conceal the weapon.

"It's Cinnamon, miss. I'm lookin to speak to someone about Frederico."

As soon as the words had left his lips, the heavy door swung open and a hunched over lady with grey hair and a tired face stood in the doorway, clearly agog.

"My boy? You have news?" she pleaded.

"I, uh... aye. He's got a gig in a kitchen in Boston. Asked me to tell you cos he was getting the first plane out today. Said not to worry about him, he'll be fine."

Looking about shiftily, he nods and strides back off to his car and sits for a few minutes, trying to compose himself. As he checks his watch, he realises the time on the note is a mere 3 minutes away.

"Ah well, might as well wait it out now."

Two very slow minutes later, a black truck slowly coasts along the road. Everything looked wrong with it. One driver, no logo, blacked out windows... Cinnamon's hand instinctively reached for the tommy gun in the back seat. As the truck slowly squealed to a stop outside the address on the note, Cinnamon reaches the back of the truck, just as the doors open.

"Hiya fellas. Freddy wanted me to give you boys this."

Already a first entry! Thank you Cinnamon for your entry. This is shaping up to be quite the competition! In fact I have some even more exciting news the prize pool has been INCREASED YET AGAIN!  A huge thank you to those who have contributed to The Fairest Writing Competition!

1st Place - 25 Credits, 1 Quad CA, 1 Super VIP, 3 Normal VIP, 5 Hangover Cure Perks

2nd Place - 15 Credits, 1 CA, 1 Super VIP, 2 Normal VIP, 3 Hangover Cure Perks, Pickpocket Perk

3rd Place - 10 Credits, 1 Super VIP, 1 Normal VIP, 2 Hangover Cure Perks

Everyone who enters the Competition will also receive a reward!

(All prizes and participation rewards will be given out at the conclusion of the competition. Payouts can be claimed by next of kin with verifying information)

Only hours since we've started! Who knows what could happen next!

I am foolish to forget to thank our new benefactors who have made the increased prize pool possible. Everyone who has contributed to the new prize pool to make this the best it could possibly be!

Thank you again to all the big named supporters from all across the country, street veterans, and all the prominent speakers from all walks of life. This competition wouldn't be possible without your efforts.

This is simply INCREDIBLE! We have not one, but TWO additional benefactors for the competition! The prize pool has been increased once again!!

1st Place - 25 Credits, 1 Quad CA, 1 Super VIP, 3 Normal VIP, 5 Hangover Cure Perks, 3 Durden Mappings, and 500k CASH

2nd Place - 15 Credits, 1 CA, 1 Super VIP, 2 Normal VIP, 3 Hangover Cure Perks, Pickpocket Perk, 2 Durden Mappings, and 300k CASH

3rd Place - 10 Credits, 1 Super VIP, 1 Normal VIP, 2 Hangover Cure Perks, 1 Durden Mapping, and 200k CASH.

Everyone who enters the Competition will also receive a reward!

(All prizes and participation rewards will be given out at the conclusion of the competition. Payouts can be claimed by next of kin with verifying information)

And don't forget every single qualifying entry will be rewarded! You can't afford to pass up this opportunity! 

You find the body of your missing friend in a small alleyway behind the restaurant he worked in. He is clutching a piece of paper with your name written on it, tomorrow’s date and an address uptown.

Tony stood their emotionless.

Carefully picking up the note with a tissue Tony scans the note reading over it placing inside his right pocket. Tony lights up a cigarette, inhales deeply, crouching down next to his dead friend Gino blowing a cloud of smoke on his pale face.

Who would of thought... Fucking rat piece of shit! Tony laughs standing up, making his way out of the alleyway. He checks to his left and right ducking back into the streets walking with a slow pace, spacing out. Thoughts of confusion and pain struck him, making him grit his teeth together. The rest of his day would feel like a dream. Finally home Tony removes his black trench coat, hanging it up and calling it a day.  

Upon waking up before the sunrises, Tony heads in to the bathroom splashing his face with cold water. Carrying out his morning routine. Ready to start the day he slips on a pair of black gloves reaching in to a draw Tony siighs loudly, concealing two 38. Specials on his waistline.

A loud trembling noise would be heard, as if their was a earthquake. Stepping out on to the train Tony heads uptown to the address and knocks on the door.

'Erm... Did you really have to leave my name on the note. Muttering to himself the door swings open and a familiar face would be standing their, also known as Phill both gentleman would have strong Italian accents.

Sorry Tony i thought it would be funny. Releasing an obnoxious laughter Tony reaches for both of his guns and opens fire gunning down Phill in cold blood. 

Next time be more careful, yea'? You had one job. Tony talks to himself, cleary not right in the head, maybe PTSD? Or some kind of psychosis? Who knows. Just another day in the life, maybe it'll be Tony's turn next week...

"Hans?"

Curtis' eye was caught by the familiar glint of tacky yellow sportswear down the narrow alleyway. No one worse such ghastly clothes. Colony's benchmark for inactivity was unique to say the least. He'd been gone for days but this was nothing new. No one had cause for concern, he was so pointless in his membership. Curtis walked down toward the slumped figure to investigate further.

"SuperHans?"

He kicked the slumped figure and he unrolled like a fat carpet. Eye punishing colours everywhere. Hans face looked lifeless but that was nothing new. Curtis gave him a cursory pawing to see if he was leaking anywhere. Apart from the usual, there was nothing leaking from the guy. He hadn't been shot or stabbed. He didn't appear to be breathing but after the incident when Hans drank a litre of embalming fluid and passed a coroner's test, nothing could be certain. 

"Well I hope you're fucking dead this time!"

Curtis gave him a good kick, then got carried away and threw in a few more. As he kicked his possibly dead, maybe comatose friend, a brightly coloured arm fell away from his body. At the end of his arm was a fat useless hand with a small piece of paper in it. Curtis reluctantly stopped kicking his friend and picked up the note.

"Well, well, well, you fat little knacker, what do we have here?"

He unravelled the note and read it.

Package will be on dock 8. 10pm Thursday. As usual, come alone.

Curtis was incredulous. 

"As usual? What have you been up to you sneaky little prick? Side hustle to cut the family out of tribute? I'm going to get to the bottom of this and if it is what it looks like, you are going for a fucking swim! I'm not buying this currently dead routine, you're full of shit!"

He gave his old friend one or two last kicks in the ribs and left him there.

***

That evening, he was ready. He notified Ragnarok that something fishy was going on and made sure the dock workers would leave dock 8 clear for whatever nefarious exchange SuperHans had planned. He arrived in good time and arranged a chair behind a couple of well placed crates. After pouring himself a fine brandy, he waited.

Sure enough, on the stroke of 10pm, a small figure walked between shadows and made it's way toward the back of the warehouse. Curtis got up from his chair and quietly followed him. He didn't look to be carrying anything, which only peaked his curiosity further. He took a swig from the brandy bottle and continued his pursuit. Eventually he found himself in the far corner of the building, staring at a very surprised dwarf. The squat character was almost as offensively dressed as Hans would have been and had an unnerving air of accommodation about him. He looked wide eyed at Curtis.

"You're not Hans."

'You're very observant.'

"He didn't say anything about anyone else being here."

'Well he should have. I'm here now. We doing this or what?'

There was a pause from the dwarf. He looked Curtis up and down as if physically measuring him. He raised and eyebrow and spoke again.

"I don't know. This isn't normal for me, I'm not sure it'll work."

Curtis was still very keen to keep up the subterfuge.

'Look, Hans isn't here. You know who I am. He sent me to get this done. Are you going to waste my entire night or do I have to shake shit out of you?'

"Oh god. Heavens no! Just wait then, I'll try to make it work."

The little fellow was clearly distressed but determined not to be shot by an angry mobster, he made ready to make good on his original promise. As Curtis watched expectantly waiting for a small parcel of jewels or something to be presented, what he actually was presented with, would leave a mark on him that no amount of brandy could remove. 

The dwarf dropped his long coat to reveal a half arsed clown costume. He turned around and dropped the pants of the costume to reveal a grizzly ruin of cheeks that he then parted with stubby little fingers. As Curtis recoiled in horror the dwarf's chubby little face looked back over his shoulder, wearing a red nose and a 'hello sailor' expression.

"Come on then big guy, get your fill!"

It was all Curtis could do not to let out a girly scream. He took a fierce pull from the brandy and instead of returning the cap, he buried the bottle into the dwarf's invitation. The little man let out a piercing scream that could have been delight or despair. Curtis turned and walked at speed from the dock.

"SUPERHANS!!"

He couldn't believe Hans was up to his old tricks again. He'd told him so many times.

"YOU'RE FUCKING DEAD. AND IF YOU'RE DEAD ALREADY I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU AGAIN!"

You find the body of your missing friend in a small alleyway behind the restaurant he worked in. He is clutching a piece of paper with your name written on it, tomorrow’s date and an address uptown.

I had known Doug Glatt from the neighborhood way back when. We ran in the same circles, went to the same schools. Doug was never the smartest guy around but he always kept his head down and worked hard. He had his dust ups with the law like the rest of us every now and then but it was always minor stuff and he would walk away with maybe a day or two overnight and a slap on the wrist.

It was pretty clear that from the beginning, Doug’s heart was never in it. He’d go through the motions, do what was asked of him but you could tell after having one conversation with him that this wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted the peaceful life, the one not filled with constant stress.

It also didn’t help matters any that Doug liked you gamble. On anything at all really. If there was a contest of any sort, from baseball to horse races to boxing matches, Doug was the first in line to place his wager. Sometimes he’d be up, sometimes he’d be down but always ready for his bet the next day.

That was why I didn’t think much about it when he disappeared for a couple of days. It wasn’t uncommon for him to take a loss and skip town for a bit until he could muster up the needed funds again. He never really had to worry about losing his job at the restaurant because it was owned by his father in law. As much as Doug was hated by his father in law, he knew deep down that he would never have to worry about his wife’s father sending him out on his ass.

It was still a bit odd that I hadn’t heard from him though. Even when he skipped town he’d usually call with some outlandish story or beg for any extra cash I could spare. I figured I’d go down to the restaurant and see if he had stopped by. Maybe he was even working a shift now. 

”Evening Mr. Marone,” I stated politely as I leaned my elbows on the countertop, “Has Dougy been in by any chance? Haven’t heard from him in a few days.”

”Haven’t seen the lazy fuck!” Mr. Marone snapped, not even looking up from the stovetop he was working over, “When you do see the bumbling idiot tell him to get his goddamn act together or he’s out on the streets! My daughter doesn’t have to put up with this bullshit!”

”I’ll let him know, Mr. Marone.”

That seemed like a deadend, I thought to myself as I made my for the exit, not saying another word as to not set off Mr. Marone again. I was starting to get a bad feeling about this as I stepped out into the streets, lifting a cigarette to my lips before inhaling deeply. Doug was a big boy, I reasoned with myself, he could handle himself if need be. 

With a shrug of my shoulders, I ashed my smoke before deciding now was as good enough time to swing by Owl N Thistle for a drink. It was only on the other side of the alleyway behind Mr. Marone’s restaurant anyways and I might as well considering I was in the area. I was only a couple of steps into the alley between the two buildings when I noticed the shoe poking out from around the dumpster. 

My chest suddenly became heavy as I froze for a long beat. I knew it in my bones without having to actually see, that was Doug lying there motionless. With a slightly shaky hand, I dropped my smoke, snuffing it out with my heel before slowly moving forward. 

If I hadn’t grown up with the guy, I wouldn’t have even recognized him. His face was an ugly shade of purple and blue, deep indents dotted all over his skull, dark dried blood had caked around the corners of his mouth and ears. Doug Glatt was beaten to death, viciously at that.

After a quick scan of the area, nothing seemed out of place other than Doug’s lifeless body. There wasn’t any blood splatter, there wasn’t anything out of order. With the amount of damage that had been done, it wasn’t a quick come and go thing. It was slow, it was methodical, it was torture. There was no way that this happened here. Doug’s body had been dropped here, a message to someone, and he was dumped recently. With the way the restaurant would throw out their trash every hour or so, someone would have stumbled upon him if he was out here all that long.

My first thought was that this had to be over some money he owed but the more I thought about it, the less and less that made sense. This felt too personal for that. And it’s just poor business sense to kill someone who owes you cash. That’s a pretty good way of never seeing the money owed.

As my heart thumped loudly in my ears, I bent at the knee, leaning forward, pulling a bloodstained piece of paper from Doug’s lifeless grasp. My breath caught in my throat as I unfolded the paper revealing the scribbled penmanship that read, Thomas Raith, August 14th, 1934 15 Evergreen Terrace, Ballard. 

It became rather clear, rather quickly who the message was supposed to be delivered too. I had started this life young, made some friends along the way but also more than a few enemies. At the moment though, I didn’t have time to think about any of that. There was a good chance that whomever dumped the body was still close enough to be watching. I had to try my best to stay calm. If I went sprinting away I heightened my chance of being seen. I had to act like it was business as usual.

I bowed my head for a moment, muttering a soft prayer underneath my breath before crossing myself. Right now, it was the least I could do for Doug. I shoved the blood stained note into my pocket before lighting another smoke, still trying to fight off the trembling hands. After looking right and left at the end of the alley, I made my way across the street to the pub. God knows I could use the drink right about now.

I was about halfway done with my ale and the nerves hadn’t subsided when I noticed the door open, in walking two men that I didn’t recognize. I grew up in these parts, know the streets and the people like the back of my hand. It was easy to tell these two were outsiders. They looked like they could fit in but there were subtle differences. The way they moved, the way they spoke, it was just off. 

What ended up being more telling was that, after ordering their whiskey on the rocks, they sat in both empty stools on either side of me at the bar. They didn’t say anything, and I tried my best to look disinterested, as if I wasn’t paying any attention at all. 

I lifted the glass to my lips when I saw the man to my right make a slow move underneath his jacket out of the corner of my eye. I let instincts take over then, swinging the glass in my left hand into the man’s face as I spun off the stool, the glass shards cutting into my palm drawing a deep crimson of blood that seeped down my forearm. As the man crashed to the floor, his partner was caught off guard giving me a chance to turn on my heels as he clumsily stumbled for his concealed firearm. I had closed the space between us in an instant, lifting him to his toes as I roughly pressed my blade underneath his chin. 

“No, I don’t think you want to do that,” I pressed the blade harder, drawing a pained gasp and a spot of blood, “Two fingers. Now.”

I held the position as he slowly pulled out his gun, handing over to me, a never felt before fear setting into his eyes. I quickly grabbed the pistol in my right hand, putting a bullet in the man who’s face I smashed. “You’re going to go back to your boss, or whomever the fuck you work for and tell them whatever meeting they have planned tomorrow ain’t gonna happen.”

”They-they-they’ll kill me!” The hired thug managed to croak out.

”I will too. Right where you stand. You want to take your chances or not?”

”I-I-ok! Meetings off! Meetings off! Please, don’t kill me!”

The loud echo of the gunshot filled the small spaces of the pub as I pulled the trigger again, the bullet tearing through his shin. An eerie yowl escaping his lips as he crumpled to the now blood stained floor. I stood over him for a moment, giving him the sense that I might just finish the job.

I slowed my breathing for a moment, trying to not let the rage of Doug’s senseless death envelope me. “Tell your boss to keep looking over his shoulder. I’m coming for him.”

By now, the Owl N Thistle had emptied. Everyone including the bartenders scattering as soon as they realized what was going on. I tucked my blade back away and slipped the gun into my waistband before smoothing out my shirt with my hands and exiting the pub as well. 
 

Duggee steps up and decides to regale everyone with his story. Once everyone settles he informs them that this is all completely true, and happened just the other day.

Interior 

Tag is sitting playing with a robot Duggee on his Sitting room floor

Narrator: Tag, isn't it time for...

Tag: DUGGEE!

Tag gets up and runs for the door, leaving his house, we see his father, standing, waiting to take him to Duggee's house. The go to the bus stop and get on a bright Pink bus, being driven by a bear.

Exterior

Duggee's theme plays as we cut to the main road to Duggee's house. Four vehicles are travelling to Duggee's and are now joined by the bus carrying Tag. There is a Bike, being ridden by Roly and his Father, a Log Car being driven by Norrie and her Father, an orange submarine (Don't ask) being driven by Betty and her Father, and a yellow car being driven by Happy and his adoptive mother, who is an Elephant. They drive a short distance before everyone shouts Duggee! and then we cut to the exterior of Duggee's house.

Narrator: Duggee!

Duggee emerges from the house, woofs, and does a little jig before the assortment of vehicles pull up and everyone shouts Duggee again. The Squirrles hug their parents goodbye, before running over to Duggee, giggling. The all yell in unison as Duggee spreads his arms in welcome...

Hey Duggee!

Narrator: Duggee, and the Detective badge...

Exterior City Street

Duggee and the Squirrels are walking down an alley. The appear to be looking for something or someone. 

Narrator: Hi Squirrels, what are you up to today?

Betty: Duggee's friend, Trashpanda has gone missing, we're helping to search for him.

Suddenly there is a despondent woof, and Duggee surges forward, bending down bedside the carcass of a long dead Raccoon which is clutching a piece of paper in its paw. 

Narrator: Oh no Duggee, I hope that's not your friend, Trashpanda?

Duggee: Ah woof!

Narrator: Oh dear, he doesn't look too... well.

Duggee glares for a moment at the unseen Narrator, before prying the note from Trashpanda's cold, stiff paw. This sets off a swarm of blowflies and Flesh flies, maggots spill from the body as it rocks slowly back and forth following the seizure of the note. The Squirrels all look pale and ill. Duggee open's the note and reads it. It has his name on it, tomorrows date and an address uptown in Bellavista. They were out the back of a Restaurant that Trashpanda had 'worked' in. Truth be told it was actually a front for 'The Dump' and Trash had been Godfather of the Old City District, but on paper at least he had been the KP in the place. Duggee believed this was in part true as it would have given his friend access to the Bins out back. Rumour had it that Trash was killed by Tyler Durden, looking to cash in on the generous bounty that sat on Trash Panda's head, but as no body had turned up in the intervening 4 days, Duggee wasn't convinced, now given that his friends corpse had just been dumped out the back of his own restaurant, Duggee was convinced that something far more sinister had occurred.

Duggee: Woof, woof woof.

Narrator: Yes Duggee, foul play indeed, and the game is most assuredly afoot. 

Betty: Hang on, what is this?

Betty points to some small holes in the piles of detritus, rubbish that has been rifled through along with some half eaten corn cobs. 

Narrator: Hmmm, good detective work Betty. 

Betty: Huh? What's a detective?

Narrator: A detective is someone who finds lots of clues and puts them all together to solve a mystery.

Norrie: But how do we find clues?

Duggee: A-woof!

Duggee points to a badge on his chest

Narrator: Oh, Duggee can help you. He has his Detective badge.

Squirrels: Ooooo

Narrator: If you find enough clues, you will be able to solve the mystery

Squirrels: ...of Duggee's decomposing friend!

70's Detective series music plays from somewhere, and a montage of the Squirrels looking for clues plays. The Squirrels are now all wearing slickers and fedoras. Betty measures the diameter of the holes in the piles of trash. Norrie puts up crime scene tape to prevent the alley from being over run by passers by. Tag photographs the scene, Roly looks under a Cow that has somehow wondered into the alley while Happy dressed head to toe in a white jump suit looks for finger prints. The Squirrels expand their crime scene and question some of the animals on the streets. A few Dogs, 2 hedgehogs, a cat, a bird and some worms. 

Betty: Looking for clues is hard. 

Duggee: Woof

Happy: I've food a Clue.

The Squirrels rush to see what Happy has found. He is standing beside some marks in the dirt with a magnifying glass in his hand. 

Squirrels: What is it?

Happy: Tiny Foot prints!

Squirrels: Ooooo

Betty takes out a notepad and pen and starts to write.

Betty: So along with scavenging marks and half eaten corn cobs we now have tiny foot prints. That's definitely a clue. 

Roly: Lets follow them!

Narrator: Good idea Squirrels. 

The Squirrels and Duggee follow the foot prints leading away from the body and out of the alley. The problem is, that despite this being a cesspit like Philadelphia and not the pristine streets of Detroit, the foot prints soon fade as they exit the alley and the dirt switches to concrete.

Norrie: Oh no, the foot prints have stopped. What shall we do now?

Tag: LETS GO TO THE ADDRESS ON DUGGEE'S NOTE.

Tag shouts loudly, for some reason he randomly shouts loudly at the weirdest of times. Something Roly also does from time to time. The Scene fades to black.

Exterior

Duggee and the Squirrels are standing outside a redbrick building on an almost deserted street in Bellavista. It is just past twilight, and the shadows are long on the ground, barely chased away by the dull yellow glow of the cheap Philadelphia street lights. The only other person visible, is a man standing by a Newspaper stand, slurping a drink through a straw. The man is wearing Dungarees and appears to suffer from Strabismus. Strabismus tends to only affect one eye, but this unfortunate soul seems doubly afflicted, with both eyes pointing in completely different and opposite directions. 

Tag: Lets talk to him.

The Squirrels and Duggee approach the vendor, Happy at the front of the gang.

Happy: Excuse me sir, Do you know who owns that building, or have you seen anything unusual?

Strabismus man: Nope, haven' a clue, but oi have seen a Bandit in a fur coat sneakin' round here lately ha ha ha. Didn't think I sawed him. But I sawed him alright ha ha ha. 

The man has a strange way of speaking, and his eyes constantly search, as if trying to focus on you but unable to do so. It is really quite disturbing.

Betty: What kind of Burglar?

Strabismus man: Oh he were small, maybe 2 feet sex in heaight, and maybe twenny five pounds in weight. He had one of them lil burglar masks on to cover his eyes, and he had a grey fur coat on. I thunk he may have bin a cat burgerlar on account of the climbing claws he had on his hands and feets. Smelled as rough as a badgers arzzz he did. 

Betty: Hmmm, very interesting. Did he look like this?

Betty quickly sketches something in her notepad and shows it to the man.

Strabismus man: Sure did, that's exactly like him, like one of dem there Fote-e-grass that you see in dese here news papers and such. 

Betty: Thanks for your time... Just one more thing...

Betty does her best Columbo impression

Betty: This burglar of yours, which way did he go? 

The man slurps from his drink and slowly raises his arm, pointing down the street.

Strabismus man: Huh huh huh, that way.

The man points to the building that Duggee had found the address for. The Squirrels say their thanks and head back to the red brick house. When they get to the door, Duggee pushes on it and it just swings open, as if it had only been closed over and not closed tight. 

Narrator: Ooooo how exciting.

Interior 

The Squirrels enter the building and take a look around. Sitting tied to a chair is Elodin, the only other Raccoon in the six cities. As the children approach him, a man in a zoot suit rushes forward, followed by several other men with completely random names.

Zoot Suit Man: Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop. This is a restricted area. Step away from that U.F.O.!

Squirrels: UFO?

Zoot Suit Man: Yes, Unfathomably Filthy Organism!

Betty: That's not a UFO, its...

Squirrels: Elodin!

Norrie: How did you get him?

Zoot Suit Man: Well if you must know. We arrived from Delaware City, determined to carry out the will of Godfather Durden, and destroy the families of the six cities when we got a call from the boss. He had decided to take out Trashpanda to collect the reward money and hire more hence men. Anyway, he follows his target down an alley, only to find two UFOs and not the one as he had expected. So he shot one, and we captured the second and brought it here in order to make a proper identification. 

Betty: Soooo, the Durden's did do it. We solved the mystery of Duggee's decomposing friend. 

Zoot Suit Man: Noooo, U.F.O.!

Betty: How can we show them its Elodin?

Roly: Phone Vincent?

A short time later Vincent is stood talking to the Durdens whilst Elodin massages his wrists. His identity established beyond a doubt by his RHM.

Narrator: Haven't the Squirrels done well today Duggee?

Duggee: A-Woof!

Duggee runs out of shot and returns a moment later. Circling briefly before sitting down, the way dogs playing fetch sometimes do, he hands the Squirrels some badges.

Narrator: Well done, Squirrels. You've earned your Detective Badge.

Squirrels: Yay!

In the distance several car horns beep, although the fact that the Squirrels are no longer in Detroit but in downtown Philly instead and their parents still found them seems lost on everyone.

Narrator: Ahhhh, and here are your parents. Just time for one more thing...

Squirrels: Duggee Hug!

En masse the squirrels charge Duggee and hug him tightly

Squirrels: Ahhhhh!

Roly: Duggee Hug.

The Squirrels break their hug and head to their parents who are standing near by.

Squirrels: We got our Detective Badges!

The Squirrels parents murmur their congratulations and support for their children's activities, despite Duggee dragging them to a murder scene, introducing them to the Durden gang, and dragging them half way across the country to investigate said murder. Parents are like that, as long as the kids are alive, and out of their hair for 5 minutes, all is well. Hugging their children tightly, they clamber aboard their vehicles and set off on the long assed drive back to Detroit. 

Narrator: Bye bye everybody. Well that was fun Duggee, wasn't it?

Strabismus man is standing beside Duggee watching the Squirrels drive off into the distance, before Duggee can respond though, a light shoots down from the night sky and envelops Strabismus man. An eerie whine sounds from somewhere as Strabismus man slowly starts to lift into the sky. 

Strabismus man: Mamma, I'm commin' home... ahuh ahuh huh ahuh huh huh.

The scene fades to black and an Duggee's theme plays.

We've got some great entries already! I can't wait to see what else comes in. This competition is HEATING UP!

As always if anyone has any questions about submission or any concerns please contact me directly HERE.

You find the body of your missing friend in a small alleyway behind the restaurant he worked in. He is clutching a piece of paper with your name written on it, tomorrow’s date and an address uptown.

Tad had been up late testing the use of different drugs on the human body. He was a man dedicated to his work so he did not let the lack of test subjects stand in his way. It would take some time to decipher portions of his notes, but with time it would be a massive help to his research. The only thing that worried him was that his friend John Triotta had volunteered to assist him with this research. John never showed up to Tad's office in Corktown and he was beginning to become truly concerned for his friend. It wasn't like John to turn down free drugs...

"Kathleen!" He shouted for his receptionist who was earning overtime by staying in the waiting room to make sure Tad did not leave last night.

She came in quickly, "Yes Doctor, are you alright?"

He nodded as he rose to his feet and fixed his tie, "Yes, I'm fine. The research went according to plan last night. Thank you for staying. I have one more favor of you before we close for today. Can you make a phone call to Pepe's Fine Italian Eats? Ask them if John Triotta came in for work yesterday. I'll be getting ready to head out while you do that."

Kathleen quickly made her way out of the room to make the call...

In order to get back to a more level state of mind Tad walked over and poured himself a shot of whiskey. With a quick gulp he was already feeling ready to tackle the day. Perhaps a bit of food would do him good as well....

His thoughts were interrupted as Kathleen came back into his office, "Doctor, the restaurant said that John showed up to work. Although...and I quote....'The scumbag left during his shift and didn't come back. If you find him before me you can tell that bastard that he doesn't have a job anymore...' and that is all I got out of the man before he hung up on me." 

"Thanks Kathleen. You can head home now and get some rest." He said as he put on his jacket and fixed his belt.

It was at that point that he realized he was missing a shoe and started to search high and low for it....

"Ah, there you are. Sneaky son of a...." He muttered as he took his shoe out of the potted plant that sat in the corner of the office. 

Well, if John didn't come back to finish his shift then it might be best to check around his work first before anywhere else. Tad locked up the office and made his way over to the other side of Corktown....

The restaurant was still getting ready to serve lunch when Tad walked inside. The owner saw him and came marching over angrily for a reason Tad was sure he would soon hear all about.

"Can you not read muthafucka? We aren't open yet! Gotta catch up after being short handed last night and this morning." The man was almost foaming at the mouth.

Clearly the man was suffering from anger issues and you didn't need a degree to know that, "Sorry to disturb you, but I'm looking for information on John Triotta. My secretary called earlier and you said that he dissapeared during his shift yesterday. I was wondering if you had any idea where he may have went or if he talked to anyone before he ran off?" 

"Fuck John and fuck you too! I don't care where he went as long as he doesn't come back here." The man said as he stormed off back to the kitchen.

Before Tad could leave a woman came over to him, "Hey, I heard you asking about John. He was talking to some guys that dressed sorta like you. Nice suits and all that. John seemed a bit nervous after they left and that was when he ran off. Not sure what happened to him after he left though. I just hope that somehow that little bit of information can be helpful."

Tad smiled and handed the girl a crisp hundred, "Thanks, that's extremely helpful. I'd suggest you should find somewhere else to work though. Doesn't seem like the best work environment to me."

He turned and exited the restaurant having a bad feeling about John...

As he started to walk down the street he paused when something caught his attention from the peripheral. Tad turned and looked down the alley where he could spot a foot sticking out from behind the dumpster. The mystery surrounding his friend John seemed like it may be at an end. As he made his way around the dumpster he could finally see his friend John laying on the ground. Bruises and blood covered John's face and arms at an initial glance. It was expected that under further scrutiny you'd find even more damage done to the man. His hand was clutching something though...

"What do you have there my friend..." Tad said as he pulled a piece of paper free from John's hand.

Tad Knackered

August 16th

201 Alber Street, Bricktown.

"The mystery continues, eh? What did you get yourself into Johnny boy." Tad shook his head as he placed the paper in his pocket.

Just as he was about to make his way out of the alley, the restaurant owner came walking out a side door with another man who looked connected. They were laughing and Tad only caught the last bit of whatever it was that the man had said..."...laying like the bum he is over here..."

Tad was ready to talk, but he spotted the gun on the other man's hip and his hand rising towards it...

*BANG*

The man dropped to the ground with a bullet in his neck. Blood was flowing and the man was trying his best to stop it with his hands while he slowly choked to death. The restaurant owner was paralyzed from the surprise of Tad's presence and his friend dying on the ground.

"I think we have a bit more to talk about in regards to John." Tad said as he grabbed the man by the collar and threw him on the ground next to John.

"Pl...p....please! Don't kill me! I was only a middle man!" He shouted.

Tad was only finding more questions to ask, "Shut up! Let me talk and then you can start explaining. Unless you want to end up like Johnny boy next to you. Now...a middle man for what? Why is my friend dead and why did he have this paper in his hand?"

The paper floated down to the man's chest as he struggled to think, "Well, I was a middle man for the guy you just shot and John. They needed somebody to do something for them and I told them I could get John to help them. That's it....honestly." 

That was never 'it' when somebody had to make the case that it was. Tad grabbed the man's collar and brought him to a sitting position before kicking the man in the chest. The man struggled to catch his breath...

"That was a good start, but I'll decide when 'that's it', okay?" The man nodded as he held his chest, "Now what work did they need done? Who are these men? Why would John choose to run rather than just do the job?"

The dickhead restaurant owner collected himself before beginning, "They're a small group that apparently wants to move in on the rackets of Corktown. I honestly don't know their names and I only know that they are based out of Bricktown. Tetley has them running out of that district and they don't want to leave Detroit. They think Corktown could be a better option to earn some good money. They wanted John to help them set a guy up. One of the higher ups of the Chimp's crew. I don't remember his name. I assume John was just being a scared little bitch so they wacked him."

Tad sighed, "Tad Knackered is the man's name. That's Gimpanzee's right hand man. It's also....me."

The man's eyes went wide as Tad leveled the pistol at his head and pulled the trigger....

John wasn't 'being a scared little bitch', he was just stuck between a rock and a hard place. He knew they'd kill him if he didn't do it and he must have figured I'd kill him for just having the conversation with them. Which wasn't entirely untrue.....since Tad would have considered it...

The address on the paper...he thought to himself as he grabbed it off the new corpse laying next to John. This must be the set up location where they'd be wacking Tad. The idea that Tad would have followed John to such a random location.....was just absurd. These guys were definitely not made to last in this world. Tad would have to pay them a visit.....but first he would get some food inside and get some rest. Then before it got too late he would go pay his new friends a visit...

8 hours later....

With a full stomach and a decent nap, Tad was ready to deal with his new competitors.....if you could even call them that. In this instance it felt more like bugs trying to take on a boot. Usually didn't end well for the bugs...

Although he could have brought his boss in on this, it just felt like a small enough operation for him to take care of it quietly. He came prepared with a ski mask, gloves, a pistol, a shotgun, and a garrote wire. He was hoping to get in and out without much of a problem. The address brought him to an old abandoned pizza place. Maybe John was going to try to get him to invest in it...

He shook his head, "Can't be thinking about 'ol Johnny boy now. Just the fuckers that killed him."

Tad chose not to close the car door as he got out and made his way across the street away form the lamps that kept portions of the sidewalk lit. He inched over to the alley and peaked around the corner. A man was sitting on a box with his head leaning against the wall. Most likely asleep and too well dressed to be a bum. Tad crept as close as he could before positioning himself near the man. It wasn't the best angle to get the wire around his neck and keep him struggling....but he would have to try.

A quick strike and the man awoke clutching at his neck. It was never a pretty sight to most when the garrote got involved.....but Tad thought it was interesting to see how each person reacted to being under such immense stress and pain. His grip was tight and he made sure to keep his weight low to avoid giving the man any leverage. Eventually the man lost his footing and was on the ground twisting and flailing. His eyes were bloodshot and spit covered his chin. A few moments later and the man was lifeless...

The garrote had made it's way into the flesh of the man's neck, "Well, I guess it's time for the guns to come out."

He pulled the strap forward and his shotgun fell from his shoulder into his hand. The back door to the building wasn't locked from a quick test of the doorknob. This was going to be a bit easier than he thought. Although they probably weren't expecting him to have found our their plan, let alone their location. Tad took a deep breath before opening the door slowly. He hoped that nobody had eyes on the door so he could sneak in the building. 

As he entered he could hear voices talking in the front of the building away from the kitchen. The front window had been boarded up so he had to get inside to find their locations. Blindly firing through the front door and window could have just given away his presence and missed them entirely. He had to be sure he got them to end this nasty business and get back to things as usual. Tad peaked over the front counter to see three men sitting at a table playing poker. Unaware that they're compatriot was lying on the ground outside covered in his own blood.

"Yeah, that idiot from the restaurant cried like a baby. Begging me to stop the beat down. Honestly I thought about letting him off, but the begging just pissed me off. So, now we definitely need somebody else to help us out." The man laughed as he finished.

One of the other men sighed and rubbed his forehead, "You really need to get control of yourself. We can't kill every fuckin person we try to recruit for the crew or for jobs. If you wanted to just get into the killing business you should have become a gun for hire rather than joining up with us."

The man who spoke first kept laughing, "Oh you know you love having me around!" 

Tad didn't want to keep listening to their bullshit as he rose up from behind the counter and fired his first shot into the third man's chest. He flew back in his chair into the boarded up window behind him. The other two turned with a mixture of surprise and fear on their faces. They were both reaching for their guns on the table. Tad made a split second decision to save the braggart for last. He pumped the shotgun and fired another blast into the would-be leader of the group.

Before Tad could turn back to the other man he felt his right shoulder explode with pain and he dropped to the ground behind the counter....

"Yeah! You like that you fucker! Looks like leaving that note worked! I guess it would have helped my friends here if I had told them about it....but I figured I'd get two birds with one stone. You kill them....I kill you....and then I go shoot that fuckin Chimp that's running Corktown." He shouted through hysterical laughter. 

Tad crawled back into the kitchen leaving a trail of blood that was flowing from his shoulder. His shotgun wasn't going to be as useful so he tossed it across the kitchen and pulled out his pistol. He could hear the man creeping closer to the kitchen door....

"Oh, I enjoy a good hunt. I see you're bleeding a good bit. Can't tell you how many animals that I had to track growing up who left a nice trail just like you are now. I hope you've made your peace with whoever you pray to!" He said as he rounded the corner into the kitchen. 

Tad went to take a shot at him and the man ducked before charging into him and taking him to the ground. The man tossed both their guns aside and began beating on Tad with a passion for violence that could be felt with each hit. Tad did his best to block the blows....

"Oh c'mon! Aren't you going to try and hit me back!? Oh look at that shoulder of yours!" The man was still laughing as he connected with Tad's shoulder.

Tad couldn't help but flinch at the blow as he let his arm drop for just a moment....but a moment was all it took for the man to get a few good strikes in on Tad's face. His vision was getting a bit blurry from blood flowing from a gash on his forehead. The man wasn't relenting with his assault on Tad's body. 

The man for some reason stopped suddenly and got up from on top of Tad, "You really didn't put up as much of a fight as I thought you would. You did a bit better than your friend John did, but not much better. Really disappointing. Let's have a little more fun before I send ya off to meet your maker."

The man slowly made his way over and picked up one of the pistols before coming back and kneeling over Tad. He pressed the pistol into Tad's knee and smiled....

"So, I know you like research. Let's see how a human reacts to their knee cap being blown away. I think it will be exhil...." The man stopped and let out a gasp at the impact in his chest.

The moments that it took for the man to get the pistol gave Tad enough time to get his knife from his hip. Luckily the man was clearly a psychopath and wasn't going to shoot Tad from a distance. His experience told him the man would want to enjoy it and truly see the pain on Tad's face before he killed him. That was all he needed to know to save his own life....

The man's grip on the gun loosened and it fell to the floor, "You....son of....a..."

Those were the last words he got out before dropping to the ground with a knife lodged in his heart. Tad let out a good yell as relief flowed over him with the realization that he'd be leaving that place alive. He struggled to get to his feet and made his way to the phone that hung on the wall of the pizza place. Luckily for him it still worked and he placed a phone call to his good friend Gimpanzee. With that he slid down to the floor and passed out...

Only ONE MORE DAY! Anyone who is holding out for a surprise entry make sure you get those submissions in soon! We have some amazing entries so far and it promises to be quite the competition!

If anyone feels like they need some additional time feel free to contact me here or in private and we can work out an arrangement. Any late entries without a prior arrangement will unfortunately NOT be counted.

Get those entries in for your chance to win some of the most FABULOUS prizes on the streets!