Jimmy Plush Meets Pussy Bear: Crudmasters Crossover Part 2

Posted: December 10, 2011 in Uncategorized

[This post is part 2 of a Jimmy Plush, Teddy Bear Detective crossover with Justin Grimbol’s book The Crudmasters, featuring the character Pussy Bear. Read the first part HERE. Buy The Crudmasters HERE or Jimmy Plush, Teddy Bear Detective HERE]

 

I woke up expecting coffee. I woke up expecting a chauffeur to throw that coffee at when it proved unsatisfactory, as it always did. I woke up to disappointment. And a note.

“Chang!” I shouted, “Come in here and tell me what this note says.”

Like you’re such a good detective first thing in the morning.

“Chang!”

Once more, no chauffeur. If I had places to go, I would not be able to get them. What’s more, I would have to read this mysterious note to find out where my chauffeur had gone. I did. And I didn’t find out very much from it.

“Number 5 Son Kidnapped by Triad. Must ameliorate situation. Chang apologizes to most Honored Mr. Plush.”

I wasn’t too sure what that was supposed to mean, but I knew a man who could help me out. Though you could barely call him a man. This man knew a lot about all things Chinese, or at least seemed to or at least would know more than I did, because I didn’t bother to listen when Chang talked about life in China. My loss this time, but I could make up for it, long as I could get the attention of the individual in question. Which I had done many times in the past. It wasn’t hard. We hated each other and I liked it just fine.

The first thing I would have to do was to find a Furry hooker. Thanks to the gentleman in question, you didn’t have to go very far to find a Furry hooker. I didn’t even need to get in my car. Walked down the street, found the nearest lamppost. Where there’s lampposts in this city, there’s prostitution. Makes me think sometimes that if there weren’t so many lampposts, my job would be a whole hell of a lot easier.

I barely had to cross the street to find what I was looking for. A sleek little thing dressed as an ocelot was making kissy faces. Typical Nero City streetcorner action. I took the biggest, most confident strides I could. Tried to play it cool and seem like someone who might be interested in more than putting her boss through a little more anguish. It didn’t work.

“Aren’t you Jimmy Plush?” she asked before I could so much as open my mouth. There aren’t many teddy bear detectives in this town, just the one who had tricked me into trading bodies. Ever since that happened, I’d wished there’d been one less. But that’s neither here nor there.

“No.” Wasn’t much else I could say.

“You must think I’m awfully dumb.” The ocelot turned her back on me.

“You want to make some money?”

She turned back around.

“Sorry, shorty, you’re on Vic’s blacklist.”

I reached for my wallet. Pulled out enough money to miss when it was gone.

“No. You misunderstand. All I’m looking for is a little information.”

She yanked the money away from me.

“Vic ain’t got no objection to educatin’ the general population. Whaddya gotta know teddy bear?”

“I need to know where there’s a party. A big party.”

“It’s 10:30 in the morning.”

“Which is why I can’t find one.”

She looked over the money agan. Considered returning it. We both knew she wouldn’t, but she was getting nervous.

“Try the Monogram Marshmallow Factory.”

I hated the Monogram Marshmallow Factory. I’d gotten ambushed there before. Kewpie Doll Steve. Real nasty customer who I’d rather have avoided. As I made the needlessly long walk to the Marshmallow Factory, I hoped Kewpie Doll Steve would never work out of the same hideout twice. Didn’t feel like taking on a ruthless crime boss in the body of a kewpie doll.

The statue of Murray the Monogram Unicorn caused me some anxiety. Didn’t stop me from kicking down the factory door to find the production floor had been turned into a casino and speakeasy where fat, rich perverts gambled with giggling fursuited floozies on their laps. No Kewpie Doll Steve. No heavies. Brought back my confidence. Within seconds I was firing my custom teddy bear .45 in the air, scattering decks of cards and sending many of the town’s most distinguished citizens running for the hills. Didn’t last nearly as long as I was hoping it would.

But it would serve its purpose. I wasn’t five minutes away from the factory when I was accosted by two familiar goons, the broadshouldered cragfaced legbreaker known as Johnny Hideous and the beanpole dandy Skinny Valentine.

“Well, well,” said Skinny in his grating, nasal voice, “looks like you can’t help but mess with The Pale Peril’s business.”

I shrugged.

“How else do we get to spend this kind of quality time together?”

“You’re dead, Plush!” Hideous growled, laying into me with a hard right. I went right down. My intention was to be knocked out by Johnny and Skinny and brought to their boss. Of course, they should have known that their boss would have preferred the two killed me outright or tore out all my stuffing. Johnny and Skinny were loyal but slow.

They stuffed me in a sack and brought me exactly where I wanted to go.

J.L Wong’s was where I wanted to go. I was grateful to be able to get in without having to witness the bad neighborhood or the awful decor. You should be grateful I don’t have to recount it. It’d be the third or fourth time for some of you. When Johnny and Skinny empted out the sack onto the stuffed tiger their boss used as a desk, they expected to find me unconscious. They didn’t. And since they hadn’t bothered to disarm, I was waving my custom teddy bear .45 at them before their boss could so much as give me a “so Mr. Plush, we meet again.”

Which was more than alright by me. Vic Halperin was a selfstyled oriental master criminal. His silk kimono, false nails and eyes often clothespinned into a slant vaguely pulled it off. But in conversations speculating on Halperin’s country of origin China did not come up very often. Still, he knew enough about the orient to tell me what the Chinese gabbledeegook on that letter meant.

“I need you to read this,” I said, tossing the letter to Halperin.

Halperin shook his head.

“You went to all of this trouble to get me to tell you what a letter from your chauffeur means?”

It was a lot of trouble. It was also a lot of fun.

“Just be grateful I didn’t come here to kill you. Which I might someday.”

Halperin grunted and read over the letter.

“Chang’s fifth son has been kidnapped by the Chinese mob. He has had to return to our mutual country of origin to resolve the situation. Perhaps you should go to China and…”

I jumped off Halperin’s stuffed tiger desk and left, making the long, arduous journey back to my office where I would have to go about my business until my chauffeur came back. I would have to find at least a temporary replacement. So, when I got back to the office, I went onto the internet. I didn’t use the internet very often. It was an anachronism.

Not much of anything Girl Friday wise. At least not til I saw her. Pussy Bear. You don’t forget a girl like her. She wasn’t a traditional beauty by any means. She pretty much looked like a bear. But she had it where it counted upstairs…and I don’t mean in her head. I was a bear too. Who was I to judge? Three feet of Plush and stuffing? To hell with it. We had a nice conversation. At least we had what I would call a nice conversation. She had the kind of attitude I like in a girl. So I offered her the temp job. And she took it.

I spent an hour rearranging my collection of sledgehammers and drinking gin before a knock came on the door. She was nothing if not punctual. She sashayed in, all seven foot something of her.

“Hey, little guy! Did somebody order a sex goddess?”

She was big, hairy, busty and bold. I knew she was trouble, but maybe she was the kind of trouble I needed.

“Very pleased to meet you,” I said, eyes on the goods instead of the face, “sit down, take a…”

The phone rang. It rang again. She didn’t get it. I stood up on the desk and crossed my arms.

“You gonna get that?”

TO BE CONTINUED!

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