Stacy Archives

November 30, 2006

Stacy: Interruptions

The detective cautiously eased open the door of the apartment, gun at the ready. The air inside was leaden. The landlady hovered outside nervously.

“I don’t know what he do. He a quiet boy,…”

The detective stepped forward. The smell was stronger in the back, near the bedroom. The closer he got, the sweeter it smelled, like cherries. He pushed open the door, and stopped.

Sprawled out on the bed was a brick house of a blonde, straddled by the allegedly missing tenant, who was recklessly weilding a bottle of Strawberry Luv Lotion.

“Dude!" he yelled. "Shut the goddamned door!”

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December 1, 2006

Stacy: AV is Your Friend

SUBJ: You oppen this mial!!

Like hell, I will…


What the… Why won’t this fucking thing delete??


NO, wait, I didn’t double click that. DAMMIT!

“Jenkins, how’s it going?”

“Well, Detective, this one’s impressive. We’ve got a body here, skinniest thing I’ve ever seen. He’s got a crank longer than my arm… pity he’s too dead to enjoy it. And downtown says his bank account is overflowing, large deposits from stock trading houses, and several million from Nigeria.”

The detective sighed. “Great, another victim of the ALL.SPAM virus. Be sure to tag those fake Rolexes, Jenkins.”

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December 5, 2006

Stacy: Time Passages

Dionysus was tired. Thousands of years and the mortals were still around,. He’d bet Apollo a fiver they wouldn’t last past Vesuvius. Trust Hephaestus to fuck that one up.

Hollywood was the only thing that made life bearable these days: hot young starlets worshipping nightly at the altar of the grape. Their nubile bodies gyrating as they unwittingly whipped up power in his name. On a good night he could feel the weight of centuries dropping away, could almost remember what it was to truly run wild in the night.

“Welcome to the Betty Ford Clinic, Mr. Williams.”

Fucking rehab.

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December 6, 2006

Stacy: The Ballad of Dirtbag Jimmy

Screams echoed through the Las Vegas night. Just another hooker, having a good time, everyone thought.

No one noticed Dirtbag Jimmy was missing from the poker room. But then no one really ever noticed Dirtbag Jimmy, until he owed them money.

Dirtbag Jimmy just happened to owe Papa Vincetti about 50K. Dirtbag Jimmy wasn’t good at poker.

This is how Dirtbag Jimmy came to be dangling off a 30th floor balcony, secured by Papa Vincetti’s boy Primo, and doing his best hooker-having-a-good-time impression.

Dirtbag Jimmy didn’t have 50K, so Primo set him free. Dirtbag Jimmy wasn’t good at flying either.

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December 7, 2006

Stacy: Nokomis Redux

When she was born, flowers bloomed everywhere, irrespective of season, climate and time of day.

When she was ten, a boy broke her heart and made her cry. The skies opened and rained for days.

When she was twenty, she made love for the first time. New volcanos appeared along the Pacific Rim.

When she was thirty, she truly knew what it was to love. The earth’s temperature rose two degrees, causing worldwide flooding.

When she was forty, she bore her only child. The geologists puzzled for decades over the earthquakes that followed.

When she dies, so shall we all.

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December 14, 2006

Stacy: So Detect

“In my bathtub?”

“Yes, ma’am, in your bathtub. Dead.”

“My bathtub is dead? How can a bathtub be dead?”

“Not your bathtub, ma’am. The fat man is dead.”

“Oh, well that happens, doesn’t it.”

“Usually in your bathtub?”

“Usually in my bathtub what?”

“Do fat men usually expire in your bathtub?”

“Expire? They have expiration dates? How odd.”

“No, ma’am, die. Expire also means ‘to die.’”

“Someone was dyeing their clothes in my bathtub? Oh, my beautiful porcelain, that color will never come out!”

“Ma’am, why is there a dead fat man in your bathtub?”

“Well, really. You’re the detective!”

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December 19, 2006

Stacy: Pillow Talk

“…your body is a wonderland…”

“Christ, I hate that song. Please don’t sing while you’re doing that.”

“Doing what… this?”


“But baby, you do have porcelain skin and a bubblegum tongue.”

“Ok, that’s just gross. A bubblegum tongue? That can be stretched and twisted, and chewed on? Gross, I tell you. Besides, hair would stick to it.”

“Speaking of hair, you really have the most amazing skin. Up close, I can see all the tiny, transparent hairs that make your skin so soft to the touch… You’re like a peach, you are!”

“Shut up, would you, and bite me.”

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December 22, 2006

Stacy: In Good Hands

“Look…” Hicks pointed at the monitor. “See the shape the waveform is taking?”

Jurvis peered at the 3-D image on the screen. “What is that…a twinkie?”

“Nah, it looks more like a cigar. You know what this means…”

Jurvis ran a shaky hand through his hair.

“It means we’re dead,” he said matter-of-factly. “When it reaches critical, it’ll tear the planet apart.”

“How long do we have?”

“A year. Maybe less.”

A muffled voice filtered through the door, “Boys, lunch is ready!”

Hicks flipped off the computer.

“Don’t worry, Timmy, we’ll solve it before the end of summer vacation.”

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December 28, 2006

Stacy: The Huntress

He blinked in surprise as an arrow buried itself in the wall next to his head. He dropped the body of the girl, and ducked down. Morons shooting bows on campus. Great.

The girl stood up, head swaying atop her broken neck. He turned at the noise and felt his mind come loose. She rested her dead gaze on him, pointed silently. A shaft of moonlight illuminated them and an instant later an arrow embedded itself in his neck. He died trying to scream.

In the center of the quad, the goddess reslung her bow and was still once more.

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January 8, 2007

Stacy: Young Love

“Jenkins, explain yourself!”

“Sir, it’s not what it looks like…”

“Well, that’s good, Jenkins because it looks like…”

“Sir! Please let me explain!”

“I believe I already suggested that course of action, Jenkins.”

“It began with this girl… and 9000 jelly beans.”


“Sir, it’s not what you think! I was on my knees and she had this straw…”

“I swear, if you say one more word…”

“But sir, you told me to explain myself!”

“Jenkins, I only wanted to know why you forgot my caramel latte on your way into work this morning.”

“Well, sir, there was this girl…”

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