The Old Funky Rhombus

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In The Office

The scene opens on a small office. A single window beams separate rays of light through half opened blinds, giving the brown leather sofa, one of the two cluttered desks, and the wooden tiles on the floor, a half lit, half shadowed look. The other desk, which is much danker and smaller than the other, sits in the shaded corner of the room. The corner where the spiders like to gather for the winter and the air conditioning never seems to reach.

Two men sit upon their respected desks. Ezra, a confident and suave man leans back on his power-demanding wheelie chair. His feet crossed lazily upon the large desk, as he shakes a slinky back and forth, nodding and smiling at the maraca like noise that accompanies.

Willy sits in his dark corner.

“It’s Wesley!” the man says, completely disrespecting the narrator’s rather elegant introduction to the scene.

“Why do I have to have this horrible, dank desk anyway? Everyone knows I’m the face people come to see. I should be there.” He points over to where his partner sits, who’s still smiling away.

“Get stuffed. Who’d wanna see your ugly mug. They come to see my hat collection. Look, I keep them down here, in the bottom drawer.” Ezra swivels on his chair, almost mocking Westerner, as his chair can’t. He reaches down to the bottom of a tall standing, mahogany wardrobe, pulling out his collection.

“Look, we got a cowboy hat, incase western comes back. We got a fez, incase we need to go undercover as street dancing monkeys. Look, I even got a space helmet. It’s magical.”

“Fez. Space helmet.” Wayne repeats as Ezra squeezes his powerful cheekbones through the gap below the helmet. “We’re detectives. They come for the truth. That’s what you get with me. None of this hat palaver.”

His words seem solitary. He is speaking out, yet Ezra indicates that he can’t hear anything with an ‘I can’t hear anything’ kind of shrug. This leaves Wacko to go off on one of his long winded stories…

“Yeah. That’s right. I was a great detective once. Back in the day, everyone came to me. Even the great Queen Esmeralda. They didn’t show this after the movie, but she actually went on to conquer the five kingdoms. Madagascar included. But I knew. Right about the time she came to me, to find her the missing city of Atlanta. It was gonna be the piece-du-resistance atop her slaughter filled crown. Crazy some called her, but I knew best. I knew where the lost world was, and still is. If only she never topped herself, tripping on acid as all of those she killed came at her, like a band of crazy hyena’s. We could have done it. Made history.”

“Are you going on about that time you made out with that cross-dressing gypsie down the central again?” Ezra asks, lifting the helmet from his shoulders.

“No. What’re you on about?” Warwick replies, shuffling the papers on his desk. Practically hiding the disgrace from his face.

“Oh c’mon. Get off it. You guys were high on Atlanta. You got knocked out when you tried to hump his dog.”

“Alright, alright. We get it. And for your information it WAS a woman and you know it.” Wendy reaches down for his coffee, swigging at the top, only to spit it straight back out again. “…It’s Cold.”

“By the way. What’s the case for this story?” Weasel asks, still tasting the cold beans of the coffee.

“Do you mind. It’s Wesley. Wes-L-Ee. I think the jokes run its course now. Don’t you?”

Wanker speaks, seeming more and more frustrated as Ezra laughs and the narrator mocks his flabby skin, and stupid thinned out hair. What’s it doing? It’s all grease...

“I get it. All powerful narrator. You mind a little less sass. I’ll ‘ave you axed…”

You can try Willy-face…

Ezra cuts in, switching his laughter for a more serious tone. “Boys. We’ll get nowhere like this. We got a whole crime to solve in this story an’ were not gonna get there with you two bickering.”

I’m sorry Ezra. Wesley started it. He…

“I don’t care. Just do your job.”

…I love you…



“Did you just say…”

I didn’t say nothing about your beautifully sculptured facial features. The way your hair sits perfectly above your dazzling green eyes. The way your crossed legs push your crotch out. Enough to make a narrator’s commentary box all ridged.

“Just get on with it freak-o… Wayne Get us started.”

“It’s Wesley!”

Wesley takes a deep breath, composes himself on his sturdy dinner chair, and re-starts the scene.

“By the way, what’s the case for this story?” ‘WESLEY’ asks.

Ezra skims through the pages on his desk, picking out information from each. “Well, we got loads of these papers, that to be honest were just placed here to make us look busy. Erm… and this one newspaper article about some guy that got erotically attacked.”

Wesley almost jumps up from his chair. His narrow eyes grow wide, almost enough to see the whites. “What, like…”

“Yep… Awkward elbow hold.”

“Aww!” Wesley jumps up from his chair, making haste across the room to read the article for himself. “Aww, what! No… No… That’s not right. You mean someone’s been going around, awkwardly grasping at innocent people’s elbows? Holding their hand there until they feel awkward and uncomfortable. We gotta stop this monster.”

“Yeah, we best get on it. Like two hummingbirds on a female yeti. We’ll get ‘im”

“Yeah we will.”

The two detectives get up and head straight out of the door. Ezra picks up his cowboy hat on the way, and places it elegantly atop his layered brunette hair. A great look for a great guy.

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