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camwynI did get one a while back that involved postcards- but it's not. The main characters are Wayne Zhuang and Dennis Hu. I've moved them into the future a number of years- they fit pretty well into the hard SF universe that includes Ira "Rocketboy" Dayan and his friend Kenny Aoi- so I've pulled the cigarettes out and replaced 'em with a legal stimulant named Vivvera as the socially obnoxious coping mechanism of choice. Not that this is especially relevant, I'm just saying.
This is a deliberate attempt to write a Good Songfic, one that's been rattling around in my head for a while.
Wayne made a special point of not being anywhere near his desk at three-thirty in the afternoon. It did not help. The Keefer Street police station wasn't big enough to hide the noise, not unless he was up on the building's roof, and since everyone knew he'd been off the Vivvera for a month. . .
"ZHUANG!" yelled Lieutenant Tam, one of the uniformed officers. "MAIL'S HERE!"
He ran a hand over his face, wearily reviewing his options. They weren't good. People tended to cluster around his desk when the mail came, and they made the crowds that formed around lottery-results monitors on drawing day look like Quebecois at an Up With English rally. There was a pet store across the street; he could probably buy a snake in a hurry and set it loose, but knowing his colleagues, they'd just ignore it. He could pull the fire alarm-
"WAYNE! YOU GOT ONE!" That was Lau, from the community policing program. Dammit. Well, there was the fire alarm, there was the fuse box in the basement. . . um. . .
He heard a door creak open. "They're going to find you, you know," echoed up the stairwell. It was his partner Dennis, and the other detective sounded much too amused for his own good. "Come on. It's only two this time."
Wayne bit back the urge to say something really vile, settling instead for a friendly "Shut up." Hu meant well, even if he did take the whole thing as a joke. With a sigh, the lanky policeman made his way down the stairs from the second floor landing. "How bad?" he asked.
"Just two. One's a repeat- it's from San Diego's collection. The other one's printed in some language nobody here recognizes. Winson thinks it's Finnish." Dennis held the door open; Wayne grunted in acknowledgment. "Laser addressed, as usual."
"Of course." Wayne threaded his way past the water cooler and through the desks on the first floor, ignoring the evil grins of the people who hadn't bothered to swarm into his territory. "And no message, I'm guessing."
"Afraid so." Dennis quickened his pace to keep up. "Unless you count the lovely sympathy card from the postal inspectors."
"M'emmerdes, you know that, right?"
Dennis gave a wide, toothy grin. "So solly. No speakee French."
"Don't make me hit you."
"Aww, you wouldn't do that, would you? In front of this many witnesses?"
And witnesses there were; they'd arrived at the fringes of the crowd around Wayne's desk. Jesus, Wayne thought, that was half the department! "Lu siong hah mik lan chiao?" he demanded, pushing past the suppressed snickers and half-heard comments. "Christ, you'd think Canada Post was giving out free money or something. Go away."
"Hey, we're just concerned about a colleague who's got an obviously deranged stalker."
Wayne froze, his hand hovering over the pile on the corner of his desk. "Dammit, boss, not you too!"
Captain Thien, who was standing just behind Dennis, probably deserved some kind of an award for keeping a straight face while lying through his teeth. "We're just here for moral support," he said; Dennis nodded, trying to look sincere and failing miserably. "I know how hard it can be-"
"I'm getting fucking blank postcards of fucking random monkeys three and four days a week for months on end and nobody has a fucking clue where the goddamn things are coming from! Don't give me that empathetic shit, boss!"
Oh, that was all he needed. The acoustics in here already sucked rocks. Having half the goddamn precinct laugh at him all at once just pointed up that unhappy fact.
"Gan lee eh ka cher-ng, the lot of you," Wayne muttered, snapping up the postcards and glowering at a helplessly giggling woman from Community Policing. "I didn't ask for this shit-"
"Nobody ever asks for Monkey's favour," Dennis pointed out, smiling sunnily.
Wayne snorted, glancing at the postcards (a San Diego Zoo chimp and a pair of grooming baboons- yeah, that looked like Finnish on the copyright notice). "Lu chiak sai, Dennis."
"Hey, that was pretty good- you just need a little more practice on the Hokkien inflections-"
"Inflect this," Wayne suggested. The gesture would've done London proud.
"Oo, multicultural, aren't we?"
"Are you trying to get me to set you on fire?"
"He's right, Hu, lay off him." Thien glanced meaningfully at the crowd; they began to scatter back to their desks. "You two can handle this from here, right?"
"Yeah," said Dennis. The captain nodded and headed for his office; Dennis' tone turned more serious. "Wayne, we already had 'em scanned. Only clear prints anyone could find all belong to registered postal employees, the stamps are all no-lick adhesive types, and the toner they used for the address is sold in every office supply store from here to Moncton."
"Like all the others." Wayne scowled at the baboons. "No patterns of any kind that we're not seeing?"
"Nope. No invisible ink, no discernible pressure lines, no nick or scuff marks other than the same ones every Canada Post sorting machine makes. Sorry."
"Jesus." Wayne slumped in his chair. "Remind me why I went off Vivvera?"
"You sure it's not Nadine?"
"Dennis, Nadine was violently jealous, not crazy. This'd be too whacked out even for her." Wayne scratched his nose, staring at the chimp. "Besides, I talked to her last night. She's been holed up in Calgary with her flavour of the month since Thanksgiving. These are postmarked Mississauga."
Dennis nodded. "Yeah, I know. I called the inspectors there, but they can't do anything fancy unless there's an actual threat involved-"
"And the goddamn things are blank. I know." He shook his head. "Log book time, I guess."
Dennis handed him the overstuffed binder; there were still a few empty slots towards the back. Wayne dropped the chimp card into place first, scribbling a few notes alongside. "You know," he observed, "this was funny at first, kinda. It got old really fast."
"Don't know what to tell you there, big guy."
"Yeah, whatever. . ." It was the baboons' turn. "We'll see how you like it when it starts happening to you."
"Is that a threat?" Dennis raised his voice. "Hey, Captain! Detective Zhuang's threatening me with psychotic empty postcard stalking!"
Wayne dropped the binder on his partner's foot.
Side note: Wayne would appear to be my designated Abuse Character. He makes such a lovely target for all things gratuitous. Poor sod.
This is a deliberate attempt to write a Good Songfic, one that's been rattling around in my head for a while.
Wayne made a special point of not being anywhere near his desk at three-thirty in the afternoon. It did not help. The Keefer Street police station wasn't big enough to hide the noise, not unless he was up on the building's roof, and since everyone knew he'd been off the Vivvera for a month. . .
"ZHUANG!" yelled Lieutenant Tam, one of the uniformed officers. "MAIL'S HERE!"
He ran a hand over his face, wearily reviewing his options. They weren't good. People tended to cluster around his desk when the mail came, and they made the crowds that formed around lottery-results monitors on drawing day look like Quebecois at an Up With English rally. There was a pet store across the street; he could probably buy a snake in a hurry and set it loose, but knowing his colleagues, they'd just ignore it. He could pull the fire alarm-
"WAYNE! YOU GOT ONE!" That was Lau, from the community policing program. Dammit. Well, there was the fire alarm, there was the fuse box in the basement. . . um. . .
He heard a door creak open. "They're going to find you, you know," echoed up the stairwell. It was his partner Dennis, and the other detective sounded much too amused for his own good. "Come on. It's only two this time."
Wayne bit back the urge to say something really vile, settling instead for a friendly "Shut up." Hu meant well, even if he did take the whole thing as a joke. With a sigh, the lanky policeman made his way down the stairs from the second floor landing. "How bad?" he asked.
"Just two. One's a repeat- it's from San Diego's collection. The other one's printed in some language nobody here recognizes. Winson thinks it's Finnish." Dennis held the door open; Wayne grunted in acknowledgment. "Laser addressed, as usual."
"Of course." Wayne threaded his way past the water cooler and through the desks on the first floor, ignoring the evil grins of the people who hadn't bothered to swarm into his territory. "And no message, I'm guessing."
"Afraid so." Dennis quickened his pace to keep up. "Unless you count the lovely sympathy card from the postal inspectors."
"M'emmerdes, you know that, right?"
Dennis gave a wide, toothy grin. "So solly. No speakee French."
"Don't make me hit you."
"Aww, you wouldn't do that, would you? In front of this many witnesses?"
And witnesses there were; they'd arrived at the fringes of the crowd around Wayne's desk. Jesus, Wayne thought, that was half the department! "Lu siong hah mik lan chiao?" he demanded, pushing past the suppressed snickers and half-heard comments. "Christ, you'd think Canada Post was giving out free money or something. Go away."
"Hey, we're just concerned about a colleague who's got an obviously deranged stalker."
Wayne froze, his hand hovering over the pile on the corner of his desk. "Dammit, boss, not you too!"
Captain Thien, who was standing just behind Dennis, probably deserved some kind of an award for keeping a straight face while lying through his teeth. "We're just here for moral support," he said; Dennis nodded, trying to look sincere and failing miserably. "I know how hard it can be-"
"I'm getting fucking blank postcards of fucking random monkeys three and four days a week for months on end and nobody has a fucking clue where the goddamn things are coming from! Don't give me that empathetic shit, boss!"
Oh, that was all he needed. The acoustics in here already sucked rocks. Having half the goddamn precinct laugh at him all at once just pointed up that unhappy fact.
"Gan lee eh ka cher-ng, the lot of you," Wayne muttered, snapping up the postcards and glowering at a helplessly giggling woman from Community Policing. "I didn't ask for this shit-"
"Nobody ever asks for Monkey's favour," Dennis pointed out, smiling sunnily.
Wayne snorted, glancing at the postcards (a San Diego Zoo chimp and a pair of grooming baboons- yeah, that looked like Finnish on the copyright notice). "Lu chiak sai, Dennis."
"Hey, that was pretty good- you just need a little more practice on the Hokkien inflections-"
"Inflect this," Wayne suggested. The gesture would've done London proud.
"Oo, multicultural, aren't we?"
"Are you trying to get me to set you on fire?"
"He's right, Hu, lay off him." Thien glanced meaningfully at the crowd; they began to scatter back to their desks. "You two can handle this from here, right?"
"Yeah," said Dennis. The captain nodded and headed for his office; Dennis' tone turned more serious. "Wayne, we already had 'em scanned. Only clear prints anyone could find all belong to registered postal employees, the stamps are all no-lick adhesive types, and the toner they used for the address is sold in every office supply store from here to Moncton."
"Like all the others." Wayne scowled at the baboons. "No patterns of any kind that we're not seeing?"
"Nope. No invisible ink, no discernible pressure lines, no nick or scuff marks other than the same ones every Canada Post sorting machine makes. Sorry."
"Jesus." Wayne slumped in his chair. "Remind me why I went off Vivvera?"
"You sure it's not Nadine?"
"Dennis, Nadine was violently jealous, not crazy. This'd be too whacked out even for her." Wayne scratched his nose, staring at the chimp. "Besides, I talked to her last night. She's been holed up in Calgary with her flavour of the month since Thanksgiving. These are postmarked Mississauga."
Dennis nodded. "Yeah, I know. I called the inspectors there, but they can't do anything fancy unless there's an actual threat involved-"
"And the goddamn things are blank. I know." He shook his head. "Log book time, I guess."
Dennis handed him the overstuffed binder; there were still a few empty slots towards the back. Wayne dropped the chimp card into place first, scribbling a few notes alongside. "You know," he observed, "this was funny at first, kinda. It got old really fast."
"Don't know what to tell you there, big guy."
"Yeah, whatever. . ." It was the baboons' turn. "We'll see how you like it when it starts happening to you."
"Is that a threat?" Dennis raised his voice. "Hey, Captain! Detective Zhuang's threatening me with psychotic empty postcard stalking!"
Wayne dropped the binder on his partner's foot.
Side note: Wayne would appear to be my designated Abuse Character. He makes such a lovely target for all things gratuitous. Poor sod.
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no subject
Date: 2004-01-14 10:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-14 11:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-14 11:11 am (UTC)I simply fumble around in a dark library with a map, is the only difference here. ;)
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Date: 2004-01-14 11:18 am (UTC)The Chinese profanities are a lot easier. Most of Wayne's swears this time are from a page of Hokkien vulgarities, and the webster who put the page up was kind enough to provide entire sentences as well as mere word snippets. Normally I use Cantonese curses for him, but the Hokkien page was too lovely to pass up.
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Date: 2004-01-14 01:31 pm (UTC)