03 T.J. Washington In “B Is For Basement” Pt. 2

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II. Chicken Soup For The Skull

“Hey Sam,” I said from the sidecar of the motorcycle we had just stolen. “Why don’t we make this motorcycle fly?”

“Oh, that’s right, dream motorcycles do fly.”

“If you want ’em to.”

“Yeah, This dream is so real, I almost forgot they have different rules.”

Sam put out his cigar and started the motorcycle. We zipped down the street and when we reached a good speed Sam yelled, “Hang on, I’m taking it up!” And that’s just what he did.

Dream flying is a little different than regular flying. As a matter of fact, just about everything is a little different in the dreamlands, but anyone who’s been asleep more than once knows this to be a true fact.

In the dream world, time and distance don’t have the same authority that they do in the regular one. Also, things have no obligation to make any kind of sense whatsoever. The regular world has a Newtonian undercoat to it, but not so much the dreamland. Again, this shouldn’t be news to anyone older than seven.

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03 T.J. Washington In “B Is For Basement” Pt. 1

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I. “B” Is For Basement

Sam and I were in an elevator. It was a Tuesday morning, not my favorite morning of the week if I’m being honest. Truth of the matter is I’m more of a Wednesday type fellow when it comes to mornings, that’s if I have to choose, which I don’t. My opinions about the times of day and how I feel about them were neither here nor there, though. Sam and I were on a case.

A local law firm suspected there was a vampire living in the basement and called me to have a look see. I called Sam because he likes going into law firm basements. I asked him why. He just said, “You’ll see.”

Vampires are pretty common and usually not that much of a problem if you’re smart about it, which I usually am. Easiest way to get rid of a vampire is get it when it’s sleeping. Killing something while it sleeps is one of the easiest ways to kill something mechanically speaking. Emotionally and morally it can be a different story, depending on what or who’s getting 86’d. I focus mostly on killing monsters, so I don’t usually find myself in the middle of an internal moral struggle when it’s time to kill them.

This particular elevator we were in had three buttons: “B”, “G”, and “U”.
I pushed the one labeled “B” because that’s the button that usually takes you to the basement. It’s a lucky thing that elevator buttons are pretty standard. It’s the one place where things can’t go wrong.

“Why’d you do that?” Sam said with a slightly disgusted tone. “We need to go underground, you should’ve pushed ‘U’, not ‘B’. No telling where we’ll end up now.”

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02 T.J. Washington In “Hoodoo, Hoodone, Hoodid” Pt. 4

 

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IV.


My sneeze had revealed to me why Sam and I couldn’t kill Memotepp after we were finished killing Youmotepp. Well, that’s not exactly true. Truth be told, we didn’t kill Memotepp because he wasn’t there. That much was a no brainer and I already knew that. More accurately, my sneeze helped me realize why he wasn’t there to be killed in the first place.

The revelation wasn’t a very comforting one and there were parts that still made no sense, but that was no reason not to trust my instincts. My sneeze-fortified instincts were telling me Memotepp wasn’t a mummy. Nor a human. Vampire could be ruled out too, so could werewolf or a Frankenstein. Many of the other things something could be could also be safely ruled out. It definitely wasn’t a tree or a goat- probably not, definitely probably not.

My guess was that Memotepp was really a mischievous-but-not-evil, shape-shifting spirit from the fairy lands. In other words, Memotepp was Judy.

It had to be true, even though I wasn’t so keen on it being the truth. That’s the thing about things being true, they don’t care about how you feel about them, they just keep on being true in spite of your insistence that they be untrue.

I was starting to wish I had asked Youmotepp some questions before Sam and I burnt him to death just a few hours ago. By the time I had finished wishing that, Sam and I were back in Youmotepp’s office. Sometimes it’s as easy as making a wish and having it granted. It’s an unreliable hook to hang a hat on, there’s no telling when a wish might come true, but when they do…boy, do they.

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02 T.J. Washington In “Hoodoo, Hoodone, Hoodid” Pt. 3

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III.

After we ate, we had some coffee. It was still too late for mummy killing and too early for flamethrower returning but at least we were trying.
 
Sam and I continued talking and then got into some chit chatting, which are two different things.

“That’d be one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever heard.”
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02 T.J. Washington In “Hoodoo, Hoodone, Hoodid Pt. 2

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II.

I don’t really like to talk to the police. My line of work routinely requires I rent a flame thrower from someone who is over 300 years old. Also, I’m dating a pixie and I just helped my best friend murder a mummy while committing insurance fraud. Talking to the fuzz is part of the job, though. No getting around – or used- to it.

” ‘Grease fire made worse by way of mummy interference’ is my best guess officer. Near as I can figure, the mummy stumbled into the kitchen and then, well you know, everything was on fire,” Sam explained to the cop in front of him.

She was a short woman in a big hat. It was the smallest hat available (Sam made sure to ask) and it was still too big on her.

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