Precinct 13 police station, in dire need of decoration, renovation and money spent on it, stood in the centre of the district. As Dick and Bob showed Arthur and Sid into the reception area they passed criminals of differing kinds.
“I still object,” moaned Arthur, “as I did a few paragraphs ago.”
“Pipe it down beardy,” said Dick.
“But I am not used to being under arrest, I am a law abiding citizen.”
“So am I,” said a cowboy.
“What are you here for then?” Arthur inquired.
“Riding my horse into the police station, similar to you.”
“But you said you were a law abiding citizen?”
“Oh, I thought you said you were a boar riding citizen.”
Arthur nodded and tutted, “It never ceases to amaze me the lengths to which the Author will go to, to get a comedic rise out of a misheard line.”
“Stop talkin’ to yaself,” ordered Bob, “or we’ll stick ya in the nuthouse.”
“How come the nuthouse isn’t on a Clue(do) board?” Sid asked Arthur.
“That is not part of Mr Black’s house,” replied Arthur.
“It should be with all the possible murderers living there. It should have a psycho wing at least.”
“I’ll wing you in a minute you psycho, if you don’t shut up,” threatened Dick, “you won’t get a cup of coffee.”
“Police brutality,” Arthur whispered to Sid.
“Police hospitality,” replied Sid.
YOU ARE READING
The Detective One
Science FictionThe Fifth book in the Arth Series. Arthur and the rest are cooped up in the cowboy/detective dimension. Mr. White-not-Black has been murdered and they must find the culprit. Yes it is supposed to be funny.
