I Object Counselor

Apr 9, 2020 Diary entry: Shalom everybody, Paulie here again, I was watching an old Perry Mason rerun on television last night, I think it was Perry Mason, anyway, this Charlie Manson-looking guy was standing over a corpse, holding a bloody fireplace brush, one of those fancy brass ones, and he was mysteriously brushing something off the body when in came Lieutenant Tragg, this Lieutenant Tragg, an old hardbroiled cop, looks just like your old Aunt Winnie with her wig off, and she got drunk last night and she ain’t takin’ any sassin’ from man nor beast, well, it turned out that the Charlie Manson-looking guy had been a valet for a very important mystery writer until he was fired for some reason or another, well, it seems when he found the dead body, he just kinda freaked out and did the first thing that came into his mind, he cleaned up, well, Perry decided to take on the guy’s case because he had a sister who Perry thought was kind of cute, and she bugged Perry for the longest time to represent her brother even if it meant she had to date Perry, anyway, this sister wears old style cat eye-looking glasses like the ones old Mrs. Hellgramite, the County Librarian, wore when she checked the Dewey Decimal system for glitches, well, Perry sent his personal private detective on out to Belle Vista Avenue to scour over the crime scene for any overlooked clues, stuff like carpet fibers, cigarette butts, the usual, and when Perry’s detective arrives on the scene, there is this skinny county deputy who starts hounding him about parking too close to the curb, it turns out this Barney Fife cop is Tragg’s son who is trying to work his way up in the police force, so anyway, Perry’s client was heard to say something incriminating before the alleged murder during a very public cocktail party, he had screamed out to the alleged murder victim “I’ll kill you!”, “If I never do anything decent in my life, I’ll kill you!”, this threw a monkey wrench into Perry’s plans for a believable defense, and it also put a wrench to his nuts and loosened his chances to take Charlie Manson’s sister to Boca Fiores for the summer squash festival they hold from the seventh through the fourteenth of July, where no one can speak unless they work the word “squash” into a sentence, it’s a real fun time for the locals, and most of the time they just yell “squash” at passersby instead of the usual”Hello” or “Good Day”, I could tell by Perry’s face that he was pissed about the prospect of spending the beginning of July back in his desolate bungalow which sits a half mile off the Strip, while Charlie Manson’s twin sister was on the other side of town, out of reach like the juiciest ripe peach at the top of the tree, that one peach you desire as if your whole life depended on it, yes, his sweet Manzanita would not be his unless he could blow the lid off this case, he would be drinking his martini dry, without his sweet Manzanita floating delectably on top with a pretty lacy red toothpick stuck through her ample bodice, a martini, dry like the desert, cannot sustain a man who is half out of his mind with thirst, no, a man thirsts, and he must drink, he must drink his fill, and when he is denied, he does desperate things to quench that sun-baked thirst for all that Charlie Manson’s twin sister is, the ripe peach at the top of the tree must be his, even if he has to chop down the whole tree for the one piece of fruit he desires, well, The Twilight Zone is coming on in a few minutes, this is Paulie, out on the front porch, screaming his love loud to all who can hear, shalom…


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