1. Cue Sax. Fog drifted past Vinny’s. A beam of yellow light slid through the Yoville alley door like a snake thru spaghetti. Vinny was packing food. The dumpster, as aromatic as a Russian wrestler, was filled with brown feathers and B & W fur... The cat’s in the bag & the bag’s in the river.
2. I staggered from the dumpster, following my nose (no choice there, it’s in front). Labels on boxes, “Yoville’s Finest Gourmet,” a cartoon Vinny dancing with the condo hot dog guy while purple cats, bunnies, kitties, puppies, a brown pelican, and a panda cheered. 2D humor... kinda flat.
3. Footsteps in the fog, I slid into the shadows of the dim, pungent alley. 3 figures... A large weeble shape, not likely to fall down, an enormous silhouette w sloped forehead and open mouth, like a turd over a gopher hole, and a blurred lithe figure. They entered Vinny’s, I saw a flash of plaid.
4. It began when a sultry redhead slid into my office, her dress fitting like a yellow line following the center of a mountain road. My eyes followed those curves like a car with worn tires on a dark & stormy night going more than a little too fast. I knew my thesaurus was going to come in handy.
5. She was upset, like a couch potato in the gravy boat of life, flopping into the loveseat, oblivious of the irony. “I founded the Yoville Animal Defense Dept. Assoc., YADDA,” she purred.
Redundant but clever.
When she spoke I heard bells, like those of a garbage truck backing out of an alley.
6. Yoville, knee deep in wandering pets; they’re everywhere, turning Y Town into a vast recycling plant of YoRina Pet Chow. But where do they go? It upset the dame in my office, Brigid O'Shaughnessy, enough for her to get YADDA involved. She crossed her legs, & I found I had to do the same.
7. Dame’s got YoCash. That ’08 Miss Mafia dress’s 1.4M. “Will 100 Yocash be enuf?” she cooed. I’m no fool... U can’t gift Yocash. “1k coins a day, plus expenses,” I muttered. Her tight dress was distracting, legs look like puppies wrestling under a blanket. “Purrrrrrrfect. Mr. S.” gifting me 10K. “This should start things.”
8. Fog shrouds this alley, where Y Town is most free of critters’ pungent gifts. A yellow beam falls past a hulking figure in the door. “I am certain, sir,” says a rotund figure, “you would agree I take the greater risk, moving these... packages.” A breath on my neck, plaid...
9. “Hey buddy, go home and sleep it off,” growled Chrome Ninja, Y Town’s night shift flatfoot. He was prodding my ribs with a nightstick, a counterpoint rhythm to the mini beatnik in my occipital lobe working a 50s cadence on the lump at the back of my skull. I staggered home.
10. Whoever knocked me out didn’t want a close look at Vinny’s. Wasn’t robbed, still had my Oscar Meyer Weiner Whistle and free Slurpee coupon. I needed someone inside the joint, someone they’d feel comfortable hirin’... someone washed up enuf not to care. I needed Charlie Allnut.
11. Charlie’d put in a stint shufflin’ goods along an African River. He didn’t care about pay, just enuf gin to keep him semi unconscious. Good with machinery too. Rumors were the ol’ Sweets Factory sold its equip. to Vinny’s. I called to my secretary. “Effie, get me Charlie Allnut.”
12. Charlie fell in, stinking of gin, and proceeded to lie on the table. “How ya doin’ Charlie?” “Hrkmph gribbet awawbble Ooooooooooh...” he said. “Need a hair of the dog?” I keep cheap gin & an old mason jar for him. Opening a bleery eye he grinned like an ancient Quasimodo. “Urapal,” he said.
13. Once lubricated Charlie takes simple instructions easily. “You fix the old oven from the Sweets Factory in that alley,” I told him. “There’ll be gin there. Someone’ll ask what you’re doing & offer you a job. Take it. I’ll have more gin here when you get off work.” “SownshfineSham.”
14. I dragged 2 Sweets Factory ovens & a bottle of gin with the old hotdog cart from the Y Town dump. Streets were deserted except in front of the condos. I ignored the pleas for a mwommy, free gifts,?s about my age. I let a wheel run over the foot of a pimply homophobe.
15. Broken Sweets Factory ovens were in the alley behind Vinny’s, ready for Charlie’s magic. I including his gin, source of his juju. His need to fix things & the noise from his drunken bumbling, would get him in. Those old ovens’d seen a lot of burned cinnamon rolls and needed Charlie.
16. Y Town’s been thru lot. 2 years ago folks trolled for quiet servers so not to seize up like a computer geek at Prom. There were the Sweets Factory riots of ’09 & once upon a Yoville no sittin’ or dancin’, & no toilets (why there’s a forest). Now 2D folks R swilling energy drinks (from where?).
17. Shifty criminals in Yoville. Zynga deputized everyone, to tie up 2D banditos & confiscate guns, wrenches, ropes, & poison, paying with trinkets & energy drinks. Now everyone’s got a detective’s license, not just me. The thought makes the squeeze box of my heart give a nostalgic wheeze.
18. Good ol’ Charlie. In the pinball game of life, his flippers are a little farther apart than most. As he seeks liquid assets, I looked to another beverage issue: energy drinks. They appear in homes & stores, & digital citizens swoop, scoop & swallow virtual tonics, rush to virtual work.
19. I needed perspective & I see further thru the bottom of a glass of bourbon. While draining that fine piece of ocular equipment I spied an old map. A spiraling road wormed its way into the guts of mother earth where a billboard now peddles Y Town goods. What happened to the underground?
20. Where there’s mystery, I tear around Y Town like a man with his pant leg caught on a rocket. Item 1: Brigid, pres. of YADDA, asks where the animals go. 2: I was encouraged not to go near Vinny’s. 3: Zynga’s got this burg hooked on energy drinks. 4: Y map no longer shows the underground.
21. Needed a hacker. In the condo’s crowd I pretended the confused noob & listened. “Will U B my mwommwy?” “G4G?” “How old R U?” A blizzard of buddy & game requests. Near the beach path a dweeb was begging for a cheat. My cursor flew like a beer bottle in a bar brawl & I was at the hacker’s.
22. Hacker’s pad was filled w high end rares. Left mssg: “Y Town Itsaboy cigar if U hack source of in game message. At midnight, Frisco time, create event in Debates & Discussions, call it ‘Drop the Dingus’.” I added the cigar to the expense account & I rode his mechanical bull to clear my mind.
23. Did a CR, punched in at the Widget Factory, tripped over a coffee & collected my 24th pegasus. Need bourbon. With a bourbon chaser. Sky Lounge’s drinks no longer pack a punch (Fall ’08). In fact they don’t have drinks at all (Spring ’10). But, JLee always pours good ones at The Blue Note.
24. Lady Blue was tending bar at the Blue Note, Blind Lemon Pledge played sax. She poured bourbon. I once questioned her too firmly, and now she’s skittish. Not bright either. The wheel’s spinning, but the hamster’s dead. “JLee around?” She started. “She gone. Back later.” Eloquent.
25. I paid attention to the drink I was currently dating. Nice thick glass. Good heft. The smooth brown liquid, The Cheshire’s Grin, was more golden than the stuff I buy. JLee keeps me in the good stuff... Missing critters. Missing underground. Energy Drinks. Dark figures in & out of Vinny’s...
26. 3rd drink drained, & leaving. Daddy Jack saunters in, smooooothe. He owned The Blue Note once, & sometimes managed a harem of dancers, but mostly he just hits on the ladies (“I know what women want”). “Sam! Good to see you! Buy ya a drink?” Heck of a guy. “Bourbon,” I growl to Lady B.
27. We small talk. He has a couple of drinks. “Well, DJ, I was wunderin’ what U know about energy drinks.”
“Don’t peddle ‘em. No profit.”
He’s usually sharper than that.
“Yeah, they’re free. Where they comin’ from?
“Some organization’s behind ‘em. Ask ?s in the forum, & you’re banned.”
28. “Who does the banning?” Daddy Jack shook his head, glancing at Lady Blue wiping the counter, slowly working her way toward us. “Say Sam! Did you hear our lil barkeep is dating a ninja?” his eyes warning. “Cool,” I muttered. “Well, gotta see a man about a zebra,” & left a 20 coin tip.
29. Any time someone says don’t ask, I give ‘em the 3rd degree. Tell me not to look, I grab a microscope. Say don’t fart &... well, that’s a bad example. Tonight I’m headed to the west side, right after I talk to Charlie about his 1st day at work. I grab a bottle of hooch for him.
30. Thuds at the door. I don’t think Charlie knocks, he just runs into the door. “Come in!” “Grnk er furbly aar snur, Sham,” I hand him the liquid he needs to work his tongue. He opens his mouth and pours a gin river under his yellow stalactites; a cave no dentist spelunks. “Thanksh, Sham.”
31. When he’s relaxed, I ask: “You get the job?” “Yesh, Sham. ‘N’ they got the coolest stuff “n’ all need fixin’! “N’ they don’ mind me drinkin’.” “Who’s your boss?” “Vinny.” “What they doing with all that stuff?” “They’re makin’ lotsa coffees. Fancy shmancy stuff! Even green coffee!”
32. “Coffee? Making coffee?” Charlie looked sadly at his empty mason jar. I refilled. He smiled around his yellow Chicklets teeth. “Yup!” “Then what?” “They fill lotsa bottles & pack boxes & the boxes go down in little el’ater.” “Good job, Charlie. Here, take the rest.” “Thanks Sham!”
33. Charlie left, cradling the bottle like a firstborn. Midnight. I checked Debates & Discussions: “Drop the Dingus.” The event was there. The hacker’s pad was filled with Morrocan room dividers except the far corner. I couldn’t move from the door. The house, like my host, was nameless.
34. “What you need?” A dialogue balloon hovered over Morrocan screens. A disembodied virtual voice in a 2D cartoon world. Psych thesis there somewhere. “Need IP address for energy drink offers. Can U?” “Pfff! In my sleep. 10K now, & the cigar when I get it.” “K” Gave him the coins he kicked me.
35. “Mwy mwommwy abandwoned mwe.” A plastic 2D sky framed the cartoon 2D kid in PJs gazing down at me. Annoyed, I picked myself up from where the hacker’d kicked me. Hate being kicked & hate hackers. Twisted as chromosomes. Superior attitude. Like I’m an AOL user or somethin’.
36. Took the Y Town map home. Clock read 2 a.m... I think it did (it’s a whimsical). “I gotta get me a Mafia V Cops clock,” I muttered. “I’ll be quotin’ Doc Suess & talkin’ to myself if I ain’t careful.” I changed into my blue jammies, grabbed my dino teddy, a bourbon, staggered to bed, slept.
37. Between exhaustion & a server freeze I dreamt in 2D (resolution: 1024 x 768). Telephone! “Yeah?...” “SAM! Help!” It was Brigid. “They’ll kill me! Behind the music store!” Corny thunder sound fx rolled through the earpiece as the line went dead. It don’t rain in Y Town. Sound fx of a major glitch.
38. Music store, 4 a.m. Yoville soundtrack echoes off rainslicked streets. Noobs go insane to that tune unaware it turns off. I run “The Immigrant Song” thru my head to drive it out. Need for a drink’s like a missing tooth. Can’t keep my mind off it, & something pleasurable in probing the gap.
39. Behind the music store a shadow moved past the billboard, vanished, just as thad the underground. In the darkness here Zynga doesn’t bother playing the elevator music enticing 2D souls to shop. I walked across the only gravel in Y Town. In my heart a sad sax played jazz.
40. Billboard: cars, jobs, blog, statues, a propagandic beacon in the 2D night. Rain dripped from my fedora, the scent of petrichor & wet felt. No signs of the underground, just gravel. If Brigid’d been here, she’s gone now. Casino lit, & distantly a stream of customers at the furniture store.
41. Hair salon’s closed, no yopes getting their doo’s . The back door ajar & light shines thru like a color negative of Letterman’s teeth. A large figure shoves boxes labeled BLUE BOLT. A rustle, plaid cloth over my eyes! A sharp blow to the coprolite I call my head, I was out.
42. Came to wrapped in brown morroccan fabric in the bushes where the hot dog guy used to be. “How much for the mummy costume?” someone hollered. “Mmmmmmph,” I replied. “I’ll give you 500k!” Idiot. I’m tied up in morroccan cloth & this moron wants to lowball me for an ’08 costume.
43. I was wrapped up good. Tried rolling around, but all I got was my Itsaboy cigar smashed & cretins asking what level gets that dance. In 10 minutes JLee showed, helped. We retreated to Charlie’s African Queen set. Told her everything while we watched the leeches. Drunk Charlie didn’t notice.
44. I caught JLee up to now, attired like a nasty neighbor’s TP’d house after Halloween. “I love the stink of your stale cigar,” she murmered. She gets like that. “Look Doll; there’s something going on. Have you heard of a fat man who delivers to bars?” Her eyes snapped back to the present.
45. “The Fat Man?” “Yeah, big guy, shaped like a pear. What do they call him?” “The Fat Man?” “Right, the big guy. What’s his name?” “The Fat Man.” “Yeah, yeah, yeah, real tubbo. His moniker?” “The Fat Man.” “And he is?” “He’s THE FAT MAN!!! They call him the Fat Man!” “Oh.”
46. JLee brought me another bourbon.“Yeah, The Fat Man was here. Sent a mafia henchman to twist my arm, but twisted Lady Blue’s instead. Moron thought she was the owner. She got rattled, he left, the Fat Man, came later. Guy has a double & 3rd chin without the benefit of a 1st.”
47. JLee smoldered. “Lady Blue said a mafia goon offered a deal. I replace the blue drinks with energy drinks & they’d make sure I got ‘insurance’. I told them to take their yadda deal, and yadda yadda over their yadda yadda yadda fold it till it was all corners and stick it yadda yadda...
48. “That reminds me, what do you know about the Yoville Animal Defense Dept. Assoc.?” She looked at me hard. “YADDA? I know they supposedly want to save the loose animals in Yoville, but they don’t do more than collect membership fees. Critters still keep showing up.”
49. “You know of Brigid?” “You & she have something in common. You’re both refugees from films, though hers is better.” JLee grins to take the sting out of the remark. Moulin Rouge V. Maltese Falcon? Gimme a break! “Actress... She knows how to play a part. She’s Pres. of YADDA.”
50. “JLee... The Fat Man must have let you know how to contact him.” “Yeah, he left a comment so I could visit and gift him stuff in return for peddling his energy drinks. Check there.” Someone at a corner table seemed to be eavesdropping, though there are no eaves in The Blue Note.”
51. Badd Bart sat in the corner of The Blue Note while everyone, even Blind Lemon Pledge on his Sax, indulged Lady Blue’s fantasy she could sing. Bart seemed preoccupied in calculating his next big mistake. I sat beside him, JLee brought me a tumbler of the golden stuff.
52. Badd Bart eyed me suspiciously. I caught Lady Blue’s eye and nodded toward his nearly empty glass. She brought him another. He seemed to relax a bit. “Thanks,” raised the glass in a mock toast, threw it into the back of his throat. “Heard you asking questions no one asks. Waddaya need?”
53. Badd Bart acted casual, but the gleam in his eye was like ones I’ve seen in the shark tank at the Yoquarium. I rubbed the 3 lumps on my head in uffish thought. Do I play him? “I’ve a friend, Rick, runs a little gin joint and he’s looking to get into the energy drink biz but... no connections.”
54. Bart grinned, not pleasantly. “Yeah, I can hook’m up. Where?” “Rick’s Cafe Americain, little Casablanca.” “I know it.” He buddied. “Thanks!” “NP” As I strolled out, he sang softly, like rocks in a blender: “Oh the shark babe, has such teeth dear, and it shows them, pearly white...”
55. The knot of my tie pressed against my larynx like a scruple against a guilty conscience. I grabbed my hat, went to the Bank. Yeah, the bank, cheesy awning & all. No one there, ever. I stood on the manhole cover. Dirt patch across the empty street. I opened the cover & dropped into the dark.
56. The Yoville Underground. Erased from maps, covered with dirt & a billboard, is still here, a clockwise corkscrew into Y Town’s heart. The flashlight from ghost hunting revealed dank, pungent corridors. Distantly the hauntingly inane melody of Y Town filtered through gutter grates.
57. Sluggish water flowed past slimy moss, stalagtites, & enchantment collection mushrooms in the colon of Yoville. My footsteps echoed. Distantly, the gurgle of water, perhaps noobs. The underground had been covered about when all this started. Connection? I was under Alton Ave.
58. Flaking moss of the underground. Something sparkled. I scraped at the wall... tiny scrolling green letters... “END-IF, END-PERFORM, END-READ...” Cobol, original geek speak in matrix.Topside might be all flowers and dweebs, down here, hints of reality. So... I’m not real. Big deal. It don't matter if I'm digital.
59. Folks think Yoville is all canned music & cute faces on big heads. I know different. The world ain’t real. It’s just a 2D matrix of pixels. Yeah, no one wants to hear me get metaphysical. I don’t want to hear me get metaphysical, but it’s true, parts of Y Town are still old code from the 80s.
60. Yoville scientists theorize there may be more than 2 dimensions. What’s a third dimension like? Maybe sort of like stepping onto transport triangle and entering another room. Once in a while Yovillians suddenly talk about a “real” world. Weird. No 3D meat sack pulls my strings!
61. Why is the world 2D? What’s with the critters piling into every scene, & then vanishing? What’s with the intro of energy drinks? Why did the underground disappear from the map? I’m just a 2D gumshoe in a 2D world, but everyone’s got something to hide, and I aim to figure this out.
62. I knew Yoville’s streets like I knew the back of my hand, & each branch of this drain system was a fungus covered mirror image of streets & alleys above. I reached for a door in a wall, guiding my hand with my flashlight. Hey! When’d I get that huge mole on my knuckle?
63. A corridor, lined with items from Halloweens past, stretched deep into the bowels of uncharted Yoville. If the sewer system I’d been in was the digestive tract of Y Town, this was the descending colon. Blueish light streamed from a door. I heard chanting. “Nom, nom, nom...”
64. Halloween zombies danced in a circular trench beneath blue skull torches. A dais, covered w tiki masks rose thru the smoke of torches failing to hide Egyptian sarcophagi supporting a huge stone bulldog, eyes glowing red. I shuddered. Zynga worshippers...
65. The zombies trudged the circular trench, green liquid flowing thru dead toes. Not all were zombies, a stone mezzanine held a costumed crowd. Dialogue balloons so thick one couldn’t read to hear. I quickly changed to my alien costume, blending in.
66. I sidled along a slimy wall of curving stone steps, a hacked floor plan from the castle & into the crowd. I noted the green ooze in the zombie trench flowed off to a crack in the wall. On the walls bloodshot eyeballs flickered like cartoon versions of Peter Jackson’s Sauron, one fixed on me.
67. Suddenly the dialogue balloons vanished, except a noob’s, prattling about being scammed. A mafia henchman tossed him beneath zombie feet. He joined the fluid flowing thru the wall. All eyes on a motionless figure floating beneath the stone bulldog. A ninja in plaid.
68. The crowd stomped an echoing beat, the cadence of the zombies. Dang. I’ve as much rhythm as a middle school nerd at his 1st dance. 3 mafia henchmen made their way toward me. I spotted a clump of alien costumes, slid among them in mine and changed into my frankenstein disguise.
69. I backed into a niche & changed again into an 08 astronaut costume. “Dude! 750K for that costume!” Eyes turned to me & the idiot in the cowboy outfit. I glared at him, he shut up. The plaid ninja raised hands and all motion ceased. “ZYNGA!” he shouted. “ZYNGA!” the crowd intoned.
70. Henchmen headed my way. I knew enuf. I heard running feet. Scrambling to the glowing beacon of a transporter, I jumped on the triangle. Nothing. Footsteps closer. I backed up, jumped again. Nothing. Glancing back I saw 4 henchmen. I stepped on the triangle, shimmering green...
71. The henchmen would be here in a moment. I could jump home or use the map, instead I dove thru the nearest door. It was an apartment and this was the bedroom. It was filled with animals. Mostly the strays, jaguars, pandas, rabbits. But there were others too, chesire cats, dogs, even a monkey.
72. A henchman could walk in any sec. I had an idea, but I needed a moment. The floor was slippery, but I made it to the balcony just as the monkey let a pungent missile fly. On the balcony was a couple pieces of default furniture. I opened the message box and began to read:
73:
Plaid1: Offer him a job and bring him to the plant.
Badd Bart: Wuddaya wan me do w Spade?
Plaid1: Meet FM. Tell him to wobble over to south end, collect critters bring to castle.
FMGutman: Production equip ready
LadyBlue: Fish online
BobHopeVIP: C me
74. They are looking for me. Makes my job easier. Now to check on Gutman, probably “The Fatman”. I clicked his name and found myself in front of a Classic Hollywood mansion with one of those new Classic Green Cars. I stuck a cheap pocket watch under the rear tire and went inside.
75. The place was crammed with rares. Panoramic walls of 08 Fall landscapes windows. Tipis, scarecrows, haystacks, gargoyles, the stuff dreams are made of. Above, photos of the fatest Yovillian, wearing every costume made. The maid costume made me queezy.
76. I moved quickly through the house, but instead of a backyard I found the backlot of a Hollywood sound stage. Amid the debris of hundreds of B movies were stacks of energy drinks of every type. Tread marks showed this place got as much traffic as a Mickey D’s next to a high school.
77. A haunting melody drifted thru the night. At the top of the stairs a door, like all doors in this tale, was ajar, light streaming thru. I crept up the rickety steps. A laboratory. A cigar burning in an ashtray, a violin on the table. It was still warm.
78. No apparent exit. But... a bookcase with medical journals held a large candle flickering in an unfelt draft. I lifted the candle, the bookcase & part of the floor whirled 360. Too far. Lifting the candle I jumped outward. blocking the bookcase and “HMMMMPH! OUCH!”
I’m stuck!
79. I’m not sure how long I was wedged between the bookcase & wall when Charlie Allnut appeared. “Sham! I got shum news abo... Hey. Watcha doin?” “Charlie! Listen very, VERY carefully. Put this candle and on the table. Then, push on the other end of the bookcase.” “Okeedokee!”
80. We found ourselves in a large laboratory. Stone walls &stairs, dials, enormous switches, Tesla coils, flickering diodes, a large table with manacles, jars filled with strange, indistinct blobs, and throughout glass tubes pumping, and apparently refining, a green goo. “I’m thirsty,” Charlie said.
81. I quickly & quietly investigated shelves & equipment. Charlie followed, sipping from each bottle, draining one every now & then. The system seemed to be investigating the green fluid... spectrometers, distilleries, chemical analysis, etc. A large pipe overhead seemed the main intake.
82. The pipe went thru wall. Outside it ran along the building, I walked, Charlie stumbled. It went underground, but appeared across the alley. “Sham! I work here!” I smiled. “Here’s 10 Yo coins. Have fun at The Blue Note.” “Thanks Sham!” He hicupped, staggered, disappeared in the gathering fog.
83. Retraced my steps, found Gutman’s, looked in message box: Plaid1, Badd Bart, LadyBlue, BobHopeVIP, Cindy Loo Who, Cookie. I clicked on Cookie. Left Message. “Here’s a litter box for ya. Got toys, ya want? Free!” See, Cookie’s a cat. A real live, fur gacking, turd buryin’ cat.
BADD BART: SAM ITS BADD I WANT TOY TO THT GET BAC TO ME ASAP
JLee: A note to Dr. Candy Slice: Doc, I’m worried about Same Spade. He’s been underground for a very long time and I fear that the fumes from the toxic dump site have gotten to him... or maybe tht Fatman... or maybe the cat turds. I’m asking you to send your mind altered C.H.U.D.S. to look f...
NunUrBzness: Got the info you wanted. Bring the Yoville Itsaboy Ceegar, and another 10k.
84. Checked the watch I left under the wheel of Gutman’s car. The crushed timepiece showed he’d left moments after I’d arrived. He’d been watching. I jumped home. Messages there from Doc Slice, Badd Bart, & the hacker. Things are coming together. Time to visit the client, Brigid.
85. “Sam, dear! Please come in!” She tactfully did not ask if I had a firearm in my pocket. “Thanks Doll.” “Mr. Spade, tell me what’s happened to the poor animals of our community.” “Not yet, Angel, but soon. It’s coming together. It’s big.” “Really?!!” I think she knew I was talking about the case.
86. “Yes. it’s more than a few missing critters. There are many organizations involved. I’ve leads, but frankly, Doll, your retainer’s run out.” “Well, if it is too much trouble, we can drop it. I don’t want you getting hurt or anything.” The way she fussed with her cigar... something wasn’t right.
87. “Don’t worry about me, Doll. I can handle it. All I need from you is a few more coins and maybe one of your pretty little smiles.” She smiled nervously. “There’s a girl!” “How much do you need, Sam?” Well, I owe the hacker another 10k, my expenses so far are 200.
88. She gifted me 50k. Dame’s got DOH (!). “Just find the bad men taking the poor little animals, Sam. I’ll report them to Zynga and we’ll make Yoville safe for every little thing.” She managed a cute pout and a sultry smile at the same time. Makes it hard fer a fella to think.
89. Back floor. Black ceiling. Fog. Screens in the center of the room. “Gift the10k & the cigar.” A foot appeared, I clicked it, & gifted the hacker. His was now: Yura Moron. “Energy drinks are being sent by Plaid1, a ninja.” I was booted. I picked myself up out of the bushes, went home.
90. Recap. Brigid pays bills. Nefarious Fatman, AKA Gutman, slips in & out of Vinny’s, making energy drinks (analyzed in spooky lab), brought to Yoville via Plaid Ninja who leads Zynga worshippers. I see plaid, bad things happen. Badd Bart wants help with distribution & Lady Blue is involved.
91.I need to slide in into the organization quietly, like someone cutting in line at Disneyland. Got a plan, as simple as my brother in law, Phil. But unlike Phil, this might work. If one needs a sleaze, Joel Cairo’s the man. He’ll be involved &I’ll make him sing like a purple dino.
92. Cairo’s door was open. Odd, since doors don’t work that way in Y Town. A shot rang out (as shots are wont to do). I crept upstairs. Cairo in a dark puddle like an Edsel over trany fluid. Over him stood Badd Bart, gat in hand & a smile tucked into the corner of his mouth like a baby on a hip.
93. “Welcome Spade. Are you hungry? You look hungry. Let’s go get something to eat. Get in the car, we’re going for a little ride.” Two mafia goons smiled unpleasantly. When I expressed reluctance, they casually folded me into a cooperative shape and stuffed me in a car.
94. Yoville has a seedy section; a forgotten commercial center w broken windows patched w toasters, chinese take out, & other forgotten free gifts. Little holes in facades indicate where missing neon signs once beckoned clients, now pimples of a lost page of Braille in a book on failure.
95. Badd Bart leading, I scooted along wearing my car between the cars of 2 goons, like Fred Flintstone in a presidential motorcade. No one smiled. Especially me. The run down section of Yville was quiet. Very quiet. If we’re going out to eat, it’s to a place more secluded than romantic.
96. If the old spiral of Yoville’s underground was a toilet, this is where it led. Past the clean streets, through the run down seedy section, beneath the preliminary engineer’s plans, were the crude artist sketches of Yoville when it was still a glisten in the eye of Marcus Pinky.
97. Badd Bart motioned toward one end of a seedy warehouse that looked like a pencil drawing from the 1982 Tron. Tire treads backed up to a huge hopper sticking out of the side of the building. “Over there.” He was grinning. I stood my ground. The mafia goons shambled over...
98. “Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Spade. I’m insanely grateful.” “I note the adverb,” I said. “Just ease on back to that appealingly large funnel over there.” I didn’t budge. Badd Bart nodded, mafia goons came at me. “Say goodbye to your Yoville Itsaboy cee gar & Oscar Meyer Weiner Whistle.”
99. Bart’s gat pointed at my gut unwaveringly. He tossed me a smile like a man dropping a quarter into a cripple’s cup. “You’ve been a pain in the yadda for a long time and now I’m going to take your yadda up yadda & hang it like a trophy on my yadda yadda yadda yadda, you idiotic yadda.”
100. The mafia goons reached out, I swung my cursor and clicked both of them. “Yo, how ya doin’?” said the first. “Forget about it,” said the other. They can’t help it. I clicked each again upside the head and dove through a door while Badd Bart’s gat barked like Drew Carey’s butt at a chilli contest.
101. I fumbled with the map, jabbed the condo. A hole widened in the universe & I found myself among the lowest dweebs in Y Town. YUTs; Yovillians Under Twenty. I’d buddied Badd Bart & knew he’d be here in a heartbeat. I shuffled thru the yaddas, got the map out again, and jumped to real estate.
102. I followed a crowd into the Haunted Mansion. Bart appeared, gave chase. I raced thru the rooms. Tumbling into the backyard & opened Events. A Rare Costume sale at the top of the list! Bart stumbled out, pulled his gun, aiming the gat thru the crowd, I clicked...
103. The room was large, filling fast. I clicked the sunglasses to change; bad lag. Any moment Bart’d show! Clicked costumes, threw on the alien, the room filled. Surveying the crowd through my over sized eyes were great rares. Ninjas, clowns, 08 pilgrims. I moved, hiding my name.
104. Badd Bart appeared. I could tell he was surprised. He froze, turned green, sprouted a brain hat and lumbered through the room like Peter Boyle singing “Puttin’ on the Ritz.” I slipped behind a group by the kitchen door while the lag grew & folks screamed: “LOCK THE DOOR!”
105. The room was too crowded to see names, & the air was thick with dialogue balloons. The lag grew. I slipped deeper into the crowd & changed into a grim reaper w a hockey mask. Shuffled into the corner. Bart was methodically working his way thru the crowd, clicking & checking.
106. But, I had a lead on ol’ Not So Bad Any More Badd Bart. I casually pulled out the map, clicked the factory, and strolled inside. No one could join me there. I opened the buddy list and deleted Big Badd Bart from Barcelona. This gum shoe was on the case and about to solve it.
107. There’s $ in Yoville. Folks buy 7-11 gift cards & charge up credit to some dweeb in England name of Bill. All that cash funnels through the bowels of our 2D world and heads beyond the great firewall in Zynga to Marcus Pinky. Behind the facade of big headed cartoons is piles of doh.
108. I’d a couple of mafia goons & several zombies in my nearly forgotten Valentine house (don’t ask). I snagged several transporters, some short stone walls, and set to work, bouncing from house to house, crawling into the old underground. In a couple of hours I was set.
109. Brigid had hired me to look into the disappearance of homeless Yoville critters. One loose thread ended up unraveling, metaphorically speaking, my favorite wool sweater and now it’s time to take the whole ball of yarn and dump it next to the allegorical kitty litter. Hope the cat likes it.
110. My haunted castle, perfect for this premium event: Quitting YVille PETS-- All for 1M. more than 32 goldfish, 99 rabbits, 48 dogs, 18 cats,7 monkeys, 6 tigers, 5 pelicans, 4 panthers, 3 pandas, 2 alligators & a partridge in a pear tree. Watch your step.(Can’t get rid of the dam cheshires).
111. The room filled. “I’ll give you 65K for a gator.” “Can you sell me just a panda?” “You didn’t mention the jaguar!!! 150K!” “I’ll buy everything for 500k!” “Will you be mwy mwommy?” “I’m poor. I need a puppy!!!!!” I started booting. The room continued to fill, lag grew...
112. I let the room grow crowded; might take a bit for the folks I’m interested in to show. I amused myself booting the same foul mouthed dweeb over & over. Never spoke... just smiled while I worked the toe of my right black oxford. Serious buyers began to show, I kept my mouth shut.
113. They all came at once. Badd Bart, couple of goons, a plaid ninja, an impossibly fat YOF. I buddy requested Gutman; he accepted with an unwholesome smile. Bart’s gat bulged his front pocket, the grenade launcher bulged his jacket, that might have been a tommy in his pants. He was ready.
114. I shouted to the crowd. I copied & pasted the 2 prepared messages so they hit nearly simultaneously. One to Badd Bart and the other to the crowd: “Changed my mind folks. I quit Yoville NOW. Line up in and I’ll gift each of you a couple of animals.” Chaos. I grinned.
115. The crowd surged, dialogue balloons filled the room. “Dude! I’ll send you $100 real 4 ‘em.” “I love you man!!! GIFT ME!” “I need a puppy!” “Yo! Gator me!” I was covered. I stepped back onto the triangle on the floor beside the large rectangular rock, the transporter sucked me away.
116. I edited out the transporter, sauntered into the next room, sat as comfy as a cartoon character can get on a 2D over-stuffed chair. Gutman appeared, I locked the house. “Mr. Spade! It is such a pleasure to finally meet you.” “Cut the yadda Gutman, we need to talk.”
117. Gutman ran a shrewd eye over me, over the room sans transporter. He could jump out, but... how much did I know? Who’ve talked to? About now Badd Bart’d be bouncing off the locked room & thinking about the message I’d sent him before jumping out of the critter crazed crowd.
118. “You’re a closed mouth man?” Gutman asked. “No, I like to talk.”
“Better and better. I distrust a closed mouth man. He generally picks the wrong time to talk and says the wrong things. Talking’s something you can’t do judiciously unless you keep in practice.” Gutman offered me a cigar.
119. Dejavu’. Big time. I lit the Itsaboy cigar. Gutman’s bulk inhaled the air as if it were more than electrons. “Now sir, we’ll talk if you like, and I’ll tell you right out that I’m a man who likes talking to a man that likes to talk.” “Swell. Let’s talk about Y Town critters,” I spit the words like cherry pits.
120. “You’re the man for me, sir. No beating about the bush, right to the point. Let us talk about the ‘Y Town critters’ as you call them. But first, sir, answer me a question. Are you here as Miss Brigid’s representative?” I frowned at my cigar. “There’s nothing certain about it. It depends.”
121. “It depends on?...” Something’s not right. Gutman was pulling strings, he acted as if he had control. “Depends on what’s in it for me. It depends on what’s in it for Yoville. It depends on the truth!” Gutman’s laugh was explosive. “Truth!!! Hahaha.”
122. “Most amusing, sir. Most amusing. Truth? Very well, you shall have it.” He chuckled. “The door is locked against my associates I presume? You think me trapped? Hahahahaha I am freer than you can possibly imagine. It is you my 2 dimensional friend who is trapped.”
123. “Have you felt you unseen forces made suddenly make you say & do unusual things? Have you felt the urge to purchase strange products and services you do not understand? Mr. Spade, you are an image on a computer screen. Beyond this window is a world you can’t possibly fathom.”
124. “Yeah? If that’s so, & I’m not saying it is, what makes you different?” Gutman smiled indulgently. “I am the only one with such girth in Yoville. It amuses me to do so. I am, in a 3D world, Marcus Pinky, creator of Zynga.” Sounds important. About now Badd Bart should be ready.
125. “Zynga? Like those statues of dogs?” “No sir. Zynga, like the company that created Yoville, Farmville, Mafia Wars and many more. Every moment you walk, talk, edit a room, ads in adjoining windows send me wealth.” It sounded crazy, but odd events in Y Town came to mind.
126. The more I looked at Gutman the creepier he seemed. No one in Yoville is fat. Why didn’t I see this? Shaped like a pear... This weeble must fall. “Well sir,” he wheezed.”This has been amusing, but I tire of it. You have become an irritation I must scratch. Time to say adieu.” I jumped.
127. The room faded in a green transporter haze, Gutman’s eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in anger. I jumped from the prisoner room of my castle and to another transporter just as the Fat Man materialized. I raced thru a dozen transporters, he gave chase, according to plan.
128. I jumped into a 08 Rares Sale, the lag serious enuf the Fatman had trouble wading thru the room. While he moved toward me like a ’65 Cadillac in a Bangkok intersection I scanned for Badd Bart’s event in Debates & Discussions. There! “Zynga! The Plaid One Awaits!” I jumped to it.
129. It was Halloween night and they were ready. The room was filled with the automated zombies, henchmen, and the new pirate ghosts and axmen, all the freaks too. Every costume, new and old. “THERE HE IS!,” someone shouted. I walked out the front door to the street. The mob surged.
130. Gutman appeared in the midst of the crowd. I turned right, ran thru Yoville streets, a dapper pied piper leading a parade of Y Town crazies. I danced ahead of the lynch mob past Alton Towers, where you will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy.
131. Left at Vinny’s, Past the strangely quiet pet shop, past the Flower shop, the crowd growing behind me, Gutman striving to make progress. Past the Night Club, hung a right and past the Coffee Shop, the Speedway, right at the Fashion store... Finally! The Bank!!!
132. Costumed YVillians and henchmen rounded the corner. I stood over the manhole. A glitch had formed them into a screaming monolithic block. Badd Bart led, Gutman (supposedly a “real” name of Marcus Pinky), wedged angrily in the center.
133. “Anyone who likes me say: 123!” The crowd screeched to a confused halt. Bloodthirsty dweebs scratched their heads. Badd Bart shot me a knowing look. The automatic henchmen were still trying to reach me. The rest... bewildered. “GET HIM!: the Fatman yelled.
134. I casually stepped into the manhole, dropping from sight. Badd Bart led, but delaying the milling, confused zombies, giving me a head start. The Fatman, red faced & shouting, was shoving people aside. Yovillians tumbled thru the manhole like Skittles thru a funnel.
135. I hustled down the tunnel, Yoville’s damp colon, kept the crowd close. Badd, flanked by store bought henchmen & zombies, maneuvered the crowd, keeping Fatman, Gutman or Pinkus or whoever he is, a frustrated weeble in an insane toy box.
136. I jogged along, a drum major for a crazy marching band. We’re below Vinny’s, the source of the green fluid pumping toward the energy drink bottle works. I knew where their material came from, and we are all going to pay it a little visit.
137. “Sorry I’m late!” JLee yelled over the sound of Zombies and yovillians. “But here I am, packed, stacked, & ready to watch your back!” The owner of The Blue Note was there. “Great! I need a 20 second distraction while I get under the energy drink factory.” “You got it!”
138. JLee pulled out an 08 Black Performance Stage. Suddenly Blind Lemon Pledge was playing his sax, The Red Hot Flames bounced across the stage with a strange Motown step, and Lady Blue began to sing. The rampaging Yovillians skidded to a jaw dropping halt.
JLee: “Nothing like the Red Hot Flames to catch a zombie’s attention,” JLee said.
“Red Hot Brains” the zombies replied.
The ladies suddenly felt like dancing fillets!
139. As Blind Lemon Pledge enthralled the masses with a mean sax solo I shimmied up a pipe and out over the factory floor. Conveyor belts moved empty energy drink bottles to machines ready to fill them with the green gunk flowing through pipes from Vinny’s
140. I dropped to a catwalk over the energy drink factory as JLee signaled her sideshow to stop. The insane crowd of zombies and Yovillians in Halloween costumes howled after Badd Bart, into the plant, sweeping Gutman in with them like a rubber ducky over Niagra.
141. In the distance I saw what I knew must be here... A large stone dog surrounded by a trench, filled with zombies & green sludge, Egyptian sarcophagi & Tiki masks. The Zynga Temple. I slowed down a little on the catwalk, allowing the crowd to spot me and give chase.
142. Above the stench rising around the enormous stone dog I stood scanning for the Plaid Ninja. Nowhere in sight. Below zombies trudged in the trench, churning the green slime. I picked Badd out of the crowd and sent him the message: “Let the Fatman thru.”
143. Badd Bart shove the zombies aside, his friend Amo shoved the mafia henchmen the other way, and the weeble of a Yovillian stumbled forward into the torchlight screeching and pointing at me in the darkness of the catwalk and pipes above. “GET HIMMMM!!”
144. I knew Zynga’s grim secret. I knew what kept the energy drinks, the coins, the cash flowing. I knew we’re puppets dancing to electronic strings & the puppet masters were themselves puppets of Marcus Pinky, 3D ruler of Zynga. Now to set Y Town free.
145. There, the far side of the factory a figure like some lithe combination of Scotland & Japan stood poised above the crown on thin pipes. For the first time I saw the Plaid Ninja motionless. I was being watched, only watched. I dropped onto the back of the great stone dog.
146. Marcus Pinky, self proclaimed president of Zynga had worked himself thoroughly into a frenzied state. Amo & Bart pulled the zombies and mafia henchmen aside letting the Fatman thru and now they closed ranks, a buffer between him and the Yovites.
147. Realizing those around him were automatons Gutman screamed the commands making them charge: “BRAINS! EAT HIS BRAINS!” and “WEASEL! SQUEELER! WASTE THE BUM!” The zombies and henchmen lurched toward me.
148. Too late Gutman realized his mistake. There wasn’t enough room for him to step aside, and even if he could, though his shape wouldn’t let him fall, he certainly could wobble, and wobble he did. For a moment he teetered on the edged of the trench, and fell.
149. The Fatman scrambled half out but zombies gripped his ankles and dragged him in, leaving corny scratch marks in Yoville concrete. He vanished amid screams and squishy noises best attributed to Mel Blanc. I thought I heard Porky Pig say: “That’s All Folks.”
150. The Yovites stopped, stared. All silent except the inane mumblings of zombies trudging in the trench around the enormous stone Zynga dog. They mixed the spreading colors of what was once Gutman blending him with the green sludge clinging to undead feet.
151. In the darkness above a lithe plaid clad figure faded into the dark. The side of the trench which passed beneath the dog had an overflow pipe sucking away the green fluid. Hidden by the bulk of the dog, were two lines of quiescent figures, pets and mute Yovites.
152. I dropped from the dog and jumped over the trench to Badd Bart & Amo. “Well gentlemen, I think it’s time for some answers.” They looked at each other. Amo nodded to Bart who cleared his throat. “Yeah, there was something in it for us, but we had no choice neither.”
153. “Talk fast before these Yovillians come up with their own conclusions.” Badd shuffled uneasily. Torches appeared in the hands of some in the crowd. “Fatman came to us. I had a couple of extra FB accounts and they vanished with all their goods...”
154. Badd Bart continued: “I complained to Zynga. I had real money tied up in those accounts. I threatened them with legal action. That’s when the Fatman, or Gutman, showed up. He said he sympathized and told me he could make me rich, or I could join my avatars.”
155. “Avatars?” I asked. Amo pointed silently at the line of Yovillians behind the stone dog. The line shuffled forward. An avatar dressed from the luxury line tumbled forward and was one with the sludge. A moment later a duck in the pet line waddled under zombie feet.
156. “What was in it for you?” “We didn’t have nuthin’ to do with the avatars, just the mutts and such,” Amo said. “Yeah,” Bart continued, “we just found wandering critters and hauled them down here, and I moved energy drinks around town. My factory pay was tripled.”
157. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Tell me the connection to the energy drinks.” Amo & Badd exchanged glances. Neither spoke. “Look fellas, there’s a lot of confused Yovites there, and they won’t be too far behind me in putting the pieces together. Spill it.”
158. We looked at the crowd. The Halloween costumes suited them. More torches now & pitch forks starting to appear. Still Amo and Bart said nothing. “Fine! I’ll just take a look.” I wandered behind the stone Zynga dog. Two shuffling lines. Avatars & critters.
159. The shuffling Yovillians were a silent, zombie-like group. Vacant, empty eyes. Gutman implied he’d make me disappear, cut the digital strings to this cartoon marionette. Yeah. These are avatars from expunged Zynga accounts. Dead Yovites walking.
160. The overflow pipe from the trench through a wall, I went out to see where... along an alley, under a street, up a wall, and finally into the refinery behind Vinny’s. Now the pipe was labeled: YOLENT GREEN. YADDA!!! “ENERGY DRINKS ARE PEOPLE!”
161. I grabbed a bottle of Nitro Energy from a nearby crate & adjusted my screen to 640X480, centered the closeup on the bottle:
25 Energy Points - Instant Fuel! A delicious combination of digital sweetness and our own secret recipe of YOLENT GREEN!
162. I thumbed thru the buddy list, found JLee, joined her. “Sam!!! I was worried about you!” “It’s all good, Angel...” I filled her in. She looked queezy, and then vanished in the direction of the forums. Another cause, another campaign, another ban, but she’d get the word out.
163. One more detail. I joined Brigid. In an odd corner of a Halloween castle and clearly in too great a hurry to lock the room. Frozen, a ninja dressed in plaid cloth, apparently in edit mode. Suddenly, the lithe figure was replaced by the familiar red head.
164. “SAM!!!”
“Hi Doll.”
“I know how this looks, but... let me...”
“Forget it. Just tell me why.”
165. Brigid O'Shaughnessy sighed. “There was a lot of money in the energy drink biz. A lot. Some folks were beginning to ask about the disappearing animals, and so I started the Yoville Animal Defense Dept. Assoc., YADDA, to throw them off. Hiring you was icing on the yocash cake.
166. I billed her for expenses & let her go. Nothing else to do. There isn't any authority in Yoville, not really. The whole thing is nothing more than a digital fantasy, like some old black and white movie flickering in a dark theater.
167. Gutman was gone, Zynga’d filled the Dog Cult Temple with digital gravel, deleted the factory. I walked thru the new horse stables. I stepped in something, and I wondered, what will they do with all the YoPoo?
----------- O ------------
A lone saxophone played in the YoNight. Spade turned his trench coat collar up and sauntered into the distance.
THE END
