chapter 1: wash my knickers

52 1 0

Sunday morning on the banks of the Parramatta River in Sydney Harbour, the Opera house stands majestic and glowing in the warm early morning summer sun.

A millionaires yacht slowly glides past the historic building, a father points out the finer points, educating his children of the beauty and history of this historic landmark. It is another beautiful day. Waltzing Mathilde can be heard from a radio on the banks of the river. Suddenly little Frankie points to the water and screams...

"Godstruth dad, I just saw fuckin' Nemo, let's fry the little bastard..."

Everyone on the boat falls around was then I opened my eyes and I thought

'What the fuck was that all has bugger all to do with this story. So try to get that image out of your head.

Who am I? my name is Dick...... Private eye Wien R. Dick, What does the R stand for. I have no idea, my parents sold me to some gipsies for some magic beans and I never found out what it meant. My parents however did go into the gold business, hmmmmmm!!! Food for thought....

I am a narator for detective stories, but one with a difference, I only narrate the cases everyone else rejects. This is my story, I tell it so as I saw it and yeah!, some of the facts might not be 100% accurate, but they are nearly true and wel Goddam it, that is good enough for me. I will narrate you through this story as it unfolds, let's get started.......

I jumped into my sports car and headed up the coast to my next case in Adelaide, I was....stop stop stop, fucking stop this shit, daydreaming again

We are transported like a fart in the 'Mistral' winds of Southern France, to a cold rainy wet and damp imaginary land.

For there on the shores of the Polluted river. In front of the Scary Jaggy mountain range, lies the not so sleepy town Foddleburg.

It is where our story begins, at the neighbour's house of the not so famous Opera singer Sidney House......

"Stop stop in the name my later husband's dead pet squirrel Arthur," screamed Ethel von Buggerlugs hyphen Arz in the general direction of Luvalot Crackopen the 3rd. Her adopted pet sister and utensil thing.

"I can't believe it, you washed my silk knickers with your woollies, you utter utter utter fanny, " she screamed further less than amused with the help.

Ethel was a woman of great stature, in figure and attitude, she was a 60-year-old widow of 10 years, but still carried her husband's name, General Bert hyphen Arz, and his ashes about in her purse.

This was disturbing to others, as she has to rake about in the ash when looking for change, but as she said.

"It makes me feel close to him..."

It was suggested she might put it in an urn, but she just dismissed it as ludicrous.

Dancing blindly, like a mole on acid, Luvalot just danced out of the room, totally ignoring the words of Ethel. She was of Polish descent, her real name was Romin Indegloamin, but has nothing to do with this case, maybe another....but who knows except me and I am a selfish bastard and am keeping it to myself....anyway she emigrated to Foddleburg in the great flood of '84 and has lived with Ethel since the old bag fished her out of the Pollute, the river that runs straight through Foddleburg and directly past Ethel's house.

Ethel had on more than one occasion, 6,482 times to be exact, tried to pon Luvalot of to anyone who would have her, sailors, bakers, even the candlestick makers of Earwax Alley, but to no avail. Yes, they would all try her out for a night, but they always brought her back the next day.

THE FODDLEBURG DIARIES Volume1: the Curse Of The Panty thief of FoddleburgWhere stories live. Discover now