City of IF

[ashkent]

There are many phrases you never expect to hear.

“How did you fit a banjo in there?”, “I’ve managed to round off the infinite!” and “Who left the cat in the freezer” are just a few examples.

When I asked Gibbs to describe the woman who had been in his house, I did not in a million millennia expect him to say she was a man.

“She was a man,” Gibbs said.

“A man?” I asked, feeling like I was opening up a door that led directly into a pit of quicksand, at the bottom of which were leagues of blackness, beneath which lay the throat of some magnificent ancient beast waiting to devour whatever emerged from the blackness beyond the sand.

“Well, she tried to make herself look like a man,” Gibbs said. “Disguised herself as one. Kind of like those detectives who try to fool the criminals with false moustaches and beards so they can watch them doing their dirty deeds then pounce and apprehend them,”

I watched the metaphorical doorway to the sand, the blackness and the beast melt into the ether of my overactive imagination.

“So she really was a woman, but wanted you to believe she was a man?”

“I can’t see any other reason she would dress up like that. Obviously didn’t want to seduce me.”

“You would be surprised,” I said. He would have been too. “Did you see her without the disguise?”

“Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“Do you want me to tell you it from the beginning?”

“Sweet baby Jesus, no!”

For I moment I thought about many things. A simple life living as a hermit on a beach. Cleaning out my toe nails with my scythe. Bouncing Pinkie off a concrete slab. And little green men called the Wee. I wanted to know all I could about my would-be adversaries, but I just couldn’t bring myself to allow Gibbs to tell me his story from the beginning. I only wanted to know something that would lead me to this cross-dressing female who seemed to be an integral part of Wee operations.

“How about this? I will ask you a specific question and you give me a detailed answer about only that. If at any point I tell you to stop, you stop. Ok?”

“Well I guess –“

“I said detailed answers only about what I ask!”

“Ok. Yes.”

“How did you meet this woman?”

“She bought my house.”

If it applied, I would say my will to live had reached the bottom of the barrel and was now scratching into the wood for a way out.

“Did she tell you why she was buying it?”

“No,” Gibbs said. “But-“

I raised a finger so quick it caused sparks. “Remember the rules. Only answer the question.”

Gibbs paused a moment, wrestling with something, then finally came to a decision.

“I think this might be useful though.”

I told myself not to allow my hopes to rise too much.

“Go on,” I said.

“She first saw the house when she came to order some suits.”

“Suits?”

“I’m a tailor by profession.”

“I really am struggling to see where the useful part of this conversation is going to come from.”

“Well, the suits were a special order. It seemed like a strange request unless she runs a dance school of some kind and she was very cagy about why she wanted them.”

The flicker of hope that had been battered around to the point of extinguishing suddenly flared inside me.

“They weren’t green lycra suits, were they?” I asked.

“How did you know that?” Gibbs asked.

“If you were me, and more importantly were me having the day I am, then you wouldn’t even think about asking that question. When did she order these suits?”

“A year ago. It was a big order and I’m only one man. Well I was. Do I still count as a man in this state?”

“How big was the order?” I asked, ignoring Gibbs own question in the hope he would forget about it.

“One hundred and four.”

“HOW FUCKING MANY?” I blurted, momentarily losing control of my tone. “Sorry about that. I just wasn’t expecting that many. Where did they find one hundred and four people?”

“Do you want me to answer that?” Gibbs asked.

“Do you know?”

“No.”

“Correct. So this woman who wanted to be a man came to you a year ago and asked you to make one hundred and four green lycra suits, to which you said…?”

“Yes.”

“…because she offered you?”

“Money…”

“Don’t hold it back,” I said. “I can sense when someone hesitates.”

Gibbs blushed, which is no mean feat for a dead man. “She offered me sex too.”

Sex, money and Death, I mused. Always sex, money and Death.

“So a woman pretending to be a man offered you money and sex to make a large batch of green lycra suits?”

“Yes.”

“Mr Gibbs, I have been around for many, many more years that you could comprehend, but for the first time, I really am struggling to believe how bizarre my day is becoming.”

Gibbs pulled an expression like a rabbit being asked to choose whether to climb into the mouth of a crocodile or a bear.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I don’t expect you to be able to reply to that. There are much more intelligent beings that will struggle for months to come up with something suitable.”

I looked around the room, my mind working faster and harder than I had ever needed it to before. There had to be something rational in the swirling cess pit of scum that had evolved around me without my knowledge. It just seemed to be buried at the bottom of a mountainous heap of shit.

Over in the corner of the room, Pinkie seemed to be poking his finger in a small crack in the wall. It seemed at least he had returned to normal following his momentary inspiration earlier. I just hoped he didn’t find and eat anything in the crevice. A demon with indigestion would really top my day off to perfection.

Sometimes there are moments when pieces fall into place, connections are made and all the lines match up. I really wanted one of those moments but it continued to evade me, so I had to return to my questions.

“Did you deliver the suits?”

“She collected them from me last week,” Gibbs said. “And that was when she asked about buying my house from me.”

“Is there a link here at all?” I asked. “Maybe I’m just overworked but I am at a loss to understand how this woman in the guise of a man bought suits from you then suddenly wanted your house.”

“I asked her to buy it,” Gibbs said in a simple, matter-of-fact tone.

“Oh, of course,” I said, leaning back in my chair and taping a finger against my skull. “Why didn’t I think of that? It’s the obvious explanation, isn’t it?”

“Is it?”

“No,” I said, “but I’m finding that sarcasm is becoming very useful to me at the moment. So why did you ask your woman to buy your house?”

“She said that she was looking for somewhere with plenty of room and wanted to know if I was thinking of selling. She was rather persuasive the way she went about it.”

“You really do make this sound like it makes sense, you know?”

“Arr ar arrr,” Pinkie chirped up from the back of the room.

“No it doesn’t,” I said, glancing over Gibbs’ shoulder. “Just go back to poking around in that…what have you got there?”

“Arr?”

Gibbs turned around as I got to my feet. “Oh that will be the bullet.”

I looked at Gibbs, who in turn was looking at Pinkie and facing away from me.

“How am I always the last to know these things?” I said more to myself than anyone else, as I looked into the ragged void that had been the back of Gordon Gibbs’ head.


Ok, the problem I'm having now is finding decision points. Anything anyone whats to see happen, suggestions, people to appear...anything and everything just add it to a reply

[ashkent]

Sorry..I screwed the chapter number up on the post. Sorted now.

[Crunchyfrog]

Ah, that is maybe why there's not been that many replies! Not the chapter renumbering bit, the lack of DP bit. :-D



This chapter had me grinning a lot, especially the last part where the conversation between Gibbs and the woman is revealed to Grim in reverse order.

I think the obvious thing to ask - and maybe to stimulate some suggestions, is what were the circumstances were surrounding the gunshot?

He's been sitting there putrefying for two days now, but this whole tale is centred around Grim mislaying his list - which he still has.

Gibbs's name appeared on the list two days after his death, rather than just before. And it appeared without a cause of death.

This can only have something to do with the Wee, and I think it is a trap.

Something very weird is about to happen to The List.

:)

[scissorkitty]

I agree.. the powers of the LIST seem to have been corrupted.. perhaps co-opted to a different place? WHERE, for instance, does the List get its information? Could Grim perhaps visit some kind of soul-dealing (or stealing.. hardy harhar!) postal outlet to sort this out? is there actually a SECOND list out there somewhere, and now the power is being split, albeit haphazardly, between the two? Perhaps WEE is trying to take over Grim's job as well as end his "life".

[Klafarius]

Yes, what about the List and it's subsequent misplacement there of... As for the rest of the story, it's fantastic! As for the continuation of the story line maybe it's time for Grimm to look for a more Angelic approach to remedy his problem with the Wee. Possibly an overworked underpaid Angel who is just a little stressed at having to keep idiotic people from an early life termination.

[ashkent]

It's been quite a while. Quite a while indeed. Time to play catch up i feel. I have a few chapters to rattle through here, so i'll blast through them in the next few days.

Oh and the List is about to come into play.

And i like the idea of the angel protecting the inept and idiotic from an early demise. May have to be working that one in somewhere.

For now, the next chapter beckons. Oh and I've made a change to this chapter so you may want to reread the last quarter or so.

Onward!!