yep, its a story thread. post any stories you made up. i made up this next one for an English project. its about- ehhh, just read it
Hank Malone
“Good morning, Jimmy! I bet you want some cereal for breakfast, don’t you,” asked Barbara Harris. Jimmy nodded eagerly in agreement. “Well then, I’ll get you some right now!” She opened her cabinet, only to shriek in fear. The object had plopped on the floor. Later that day, I arrived at the scene. Barbara led me into the kitchen, where the crime was held. On the checker-tiled floor, I saw the victim on the ground. It was a box of corn flakes with a steak knife right through it. Damn! It was the seventh killing of this kind this week! It was official: we had a cereal killer on the loose.
When I got back to the Police Station, my teammates were surrounding the glass entry doors, which seemed to be shattered. Shouting over the commotion, I managed to yell “Alright, alright! Back it up! I want to see this myself!” What I saw made me drop my trench coat and my car keys. Another murder! This time, the cereal box was pinned into the glass with piano wire. On the box, there was a sticky note that read “I won’t stop, until they do first.” This left us stumped. Who was the killer? Who did he want to stop? Why was I asking so many cliché questions like some cliché detective? Because I’m Hank Malone, cliché detective extraordinaire.
When we recovered from the shock back there, we started cracking down the case. None of the killer’s weapons had his fingerprints, and neither did the note. Witnesses described him as ‘thin’ and ‘old’. After all the research, hunger, and boredom, I narrowed down three suspects, ignoring the witness’s descriptions. Could it have been Barbara, the beautiful single mom? Perhaps it was Walters, that new rookie who just joined the force. Or maybe it was cereal makers themselves!
My wife told me to get the groceries, so I did. Boy, I thought, all this thinking and grocery shopping sure made me hungry! I put my groceries in the front seat so I could give more room for Patches, my single colored German Shkadoodlevhoochen. I pulled up to a drive-thru window and ordered two chilidogs. While the cashier was looking for extra napkins, Patches barked. I spilled the chili everywhere, but that didn’t matter at all, because someone shanked my grocery bag! When I got back to the station, I brown townyzed the grocery bag, with all the contents still in it. Ironically, the shank only went in deep enough to stab the box of Apple Jacks. There was no note this time, so I went ahead and pulled out the blade. I spoke too soon, someone had written the same exact thing the note said on the blade. There was no time to waste, I had to question the suspects immediately. But first, I had to go to the bathroom. Those chilidogs go down fast.
While I was freeing the brown trout, I heard a loud ‘bang’ outside. I figured it was some kids playing with a firecracker. After I got out of the bathroom, I had to spray Febreeze everywhere, and stuff my nose into the furniture like they do in the commercials. When I was done digging my nose into my office chair, a pattern of red and blue lights blinked and flashed through my office window. I raced outside in front of the station to find police tape, a police car, and cereal box that was traced with chalk. This time, it wasn’t a stabbing, it was a shooting. “Sarge, what happened?” He was still mumbling to a co-worker.
“It appears the victim was shot!”
“No s**t, Sherlock.”
“Well, in further detail, it seems the bullet came from the East, which means the shooter shot from the South!”
“Sarge, can you come closer here, I want to whisper something to you.” The sergeant came closer to hear what I was about to say. I slapped him with great force with the back of my hand. “Sarge, are you crazy? If the bullet came from the East, the shooter came from the West!”
“You’re right,” he said, still rubbing his cheek. “What was I thinking?”
Anyway, I arrived at the house of the first suspect, Barbara Harris. I knocked the door, and she welcomed me in. “Good evening, Hank. What brings you here?”
“I came to ask you some questions. Is it ok if I do?”
“Why, of course! Why don’t you sit on the couch over there?”
“Because your son has tons of friggin’ Legos on it.”
“Oh, well why don’t you sit next to me, right here?”
When I sat down, she was going to ask me something, but I interrupted it by saying “Ma’am, are you trying to seduce me?”
“Yes I am,” she said, grabbing my shirt.
I ran to the kitchen, but she followed. The only reason why I was avoiding her was because she seemed to have vampire teeth, red eyes, and growing fingernails. In a panic, I grabbed her hair, stuck her head in the microwave, and turned it on. Her head inflated, and then exploded into confetti and streamers. Panting, I snatched my things and drove out of the area.
My next suspect was Walters, the rookie. We were in a dark room. I turned on the swinging lamp. Walters was tied to a chair with duct tape over his mouth. He was sweating in fear, and seemed as if he wet his pants. I turned on the second lamp, which revealed me. I was frustrated. I vigorously ripped off the tape from his mouth. He was still trembling, and pleaded to let him go. I slapped him across the face, and asked him, “Why’d you do it Walters? You made me and my little boy cry this morning because we couldn’t eat our Apple Jacks!”
“P-Please, sir, let me go! I’m not even supposed to be in this story!”
I slapped him again. “Admit it! You did it to avenge your father!”
“I didn’t do anything! Besides, I don’t have a father. I was adopted!”
“No, Walters, I am your father.”
He burst into tears. “Why didn’t we have Apple Jacks this morning, Dad, why?”
“Because you killed them,” I said, starting to tear.
“I swear, I-“ His watch beeped. “Hey, can you let me go now? I’m on lunch break and Sarge only gives us half an hour to eat.” I untied Walters from the chair. That only left me with one suspect: The cereal company.
I approached the large, gray, industrial building. I walked up to the front desk and said “Hello, I have an appointment with Big Tony.” The woman at the front desk pressed a button and a door swung open. “Thanks,” I told her. She just mumbled.
I walked into a dim room with a desk and big, red swivel chair with the back facing me. “Hello? Is there a Big Tony here?” The chair swiveled to face me. Sitting in the chair, was a large, Italian in a black pinstriped suit.
“I’ve been waiting for you, Hank,” he said in a cliché Italian Mafian accent. “Ay, Louie! Get a load of this guy!” A tall, thin man walked into the room, glanced at me, then laughed along with Tony. Getting back to business, I asked “Tony, have you been responsible for the recent cereal killings?” His booming laugh made me cringe.
“Hank, you big palooka. I’ve been in the cereal business for 35 years! Why would I stop now? Now get out, or you’ll be sleeping with the fishes.” As soon as he said that, I was out of the room and the factory. I walked into a dark alley and pondered who it could’ve been, like what some cliché detective would do? My thinking was interrupted by a gunshot that almost got my left shoulder. I looked over and found the silhouette of a man, who’s petticoat tails were flapping in the breeze. He shot again and missed. I pulled out my revolver and shot back. He ran up the fire escape of a nearby building and I followed. He pulled off a rusty pipe from the side of the building and threw it at me. I jumped over it and the chase continued. We reached the end of the fire escape path. He had no other option but to jump into a conveniently placed dumpster. I also followed. He dropped down some trash cans to slow me down, but it failed. I chased him all the way to the outskirts of town. He sprinted into a large wooden building that had a walkway of hundreds of stairs. The man glanced back at me, then slipped into the building. I burst open the double doors, only to find him on some stairs. The inside of the building was plain, and had a touch of Japanese culture. Looking around, I yelled “I’ve got you now, you might as well surrender!” The silhouette raised his arm and pointed at me. In less then a second, 3 ninjas jumped out of the shadows. I was outnumbered. They were ninjas! Even if I was stronger than all of them combined, they would still kill me! So, I found a simple solution. I pulled out my revolver and shot them in the knees. Surprised, the man tried running, but he was trapped. I tackled him onto the ground, and punched him 45 more times than necessary. I grabbed him by the shoulders, shook him and yelled in his face “Who are you? Why’d you do it? Why am I asking the overused cliché detective questions again?” I pulled out my flashlight, and shone it in his face. When I saw him, I couldn’t believe how stupid I was to not suspect him.
It was the Quaker Oats guy. “I did it because ever since kids have been introduced to sugary breakfast cereals, they’ve abandoned the best morning food ever: oatmeal!” After I called over my team to arrest him, his last words were “I would have gotten away with it too! If it wasn’t for those meddling detectives, and their stupid Shkadoodlevhoochen!” After a good ‘end-of-the-show’ laugh, one of my childhood heroes arrived.
“Hey, it’s G.I. Joe,” blurted out Walters.
“Remember kids, starting the morning with a healthy bowl of oatmeal is always a good way to start the day,” said the G.I.
“Thanks for helping us know, G.I. Joe,” said my crew in unison.
“And knowing is half the battle.”
TL;DR: read it
