The Silencer (Part 1)
- Alan Wiebe
- 7 days ago
- 5 min read
Updated: 2 days ago
Content Rating: 18+
Los Angeles – this city…
Something rotten was going down – and I could smell it!
Every crumbum writer in Hollywood had it out for Ms. Purronica Miau, the queen of prime-time television. Purronica’s hit television series, Mystery Cat, starring Bexley Zarakaiza as Detective Rachel “Purronica” Miau, and her crime-solving cat, Kitty Holmes, played by @hernameismswhiskers, was the envy of every studio in Tinseltown.
The city slept beneath swollen clouds choked with tears that night. It was raining cats and dogs. My trench coat was soaked. I lit up a smoke in the pouring rain. No problem - I could light one up in a hurricane.
My name is Jimothy Dyck and I’m in the Public Relations business. I make bad publicity disappear. They call me The Silencer – because I’ve killed more stories than I can count. Ever hear of Game of Thrones, Season 7? No, you haven’t. It was so bad the studio paid me to bury it. Long live Joffrey Baratheon, the one true king of the Iron Throne.
I was on my way to a job – not the kind you put on your résumé. Some lady up in Hollywood Hills needed a story to go away – and I needed the money something bad.
Saxophone blues was vibing through my car's sound system. I took the exit to Sunset Boulevard. Cars whizzed by like the electrons of a giant circuit city. The warm bass and sweet, melodic reverberations undulated into the lines on the road. I turned the rear-view mirror. The L.A. skyline twinkled like a million stars. Everyone’s a star in La-La-Land.
Over there!
That’s the address – 7869 Fairfield Drive.
I pulled into the winding entrance of a luxury estate overlooking Hollywood Hills. The place was straight out of a real estate brochure.
This stunning 13,500 square foot, four-bedroom, three bath residence was a true slice of post-Americana pie. It’s open concept interior featured a modern architectural design with expansive vistas from Los Angeles to the Pacific Ocean, where contemporary urban design meets natural beauty in luxurious style.
I parked my car in the driveway.
The mansion’s sharp, angular lines directed my footsteps along a paved walkway.
“You got this!”
I paused at the front door to reassure myself.
“My name is Jimothy Dyck and I’m making a movie! It’s called –”
The front door opened before I could think of a punchline. I thought I’d never find love again after my wife got her face eaten off by zombies – but the woman standing in front of me had it all! No missing eyeballs or bitemarks anywhere. A set of bazongas to die for – and toes you could suck on all day long!
The femme fatale gave me a lookie-look with wicked eyes in wanting.
“I hear the coffee in Paraguay is hot,” she said, pointing to my paper cup, her fingernails painted fuck-me red.
“The coffee in Chile is much hotter,” I replied, taking a sippity-sip of scalding hot coffee.
“Gah!”
I yelped like a little pussy boy.
“You must be The Silencer –” Her voice was chill. “The agency said you were a freak, Mr…?”
“Dyck – Jimothy Dyck, Public Relations Specialist. I hear you’ve got some bad public relations.”
“Soo bad, Mr. Dyck.”
“Call me Jimothy, Mrs…?”
“Miss – Ms. Purronica Miau.”
The way Purronica made eyes with me – it gave me the tingles, like prickly pins poking my skin. I can’t remember the last time anyone looked at me like that. It was the kind of eye-fucking you usually have to pay for in an empty parking lot.
Just then, a set of headlights veered into the driveway, breaking our gaze.
“Who could that be?” Purronica wondered. She wasn’t exactly expecting her agent at this hour.
I turned my head and immediately recognized the white panel K.L.I.T. Channel 7 News van.
“The media!”
“Dammit!” Purronica exclaimed, yanking me inside. “It’s an ambush!”
“Quick!” I panicked. “Turn out the lights – pretend you’re not home!”
There was no time to write another joke because Purronica’s phone rang at that moment.
“The reporter!” Purronica hissed, showing me the caller I.D. on her phone.
“Oh, no!” I gulped, tripping over a standing floor lamp in the dark. “Not Carmen San Diego, from San Bernardino - let it go to voicemail!”
Carmen San Diego, from K.L.I.T. Channel 7 News, San Bernardino, was the worst – young, ambitious, and fresh out of college. The type of real go-getter that asks too many questions.
I’m not gonna lie – I was in way over my head.
“Somebody tipped her off!” Purronica insisted.
“Everything’s going to be okay!” I lied, just as the doorbell chimed.
Ring-a-dingy-ding-dong!
“She’s here!” Purronica gasped, tackling me to the floor, out of Carmen’s sight.
The force of Purronica’s body landing on top of me took my breath away. When I opened my eyes, Purronica was staring at me with a concerned expression on her face.
“Jimothy…” Purronica whispered, her golden blonde hair brushing against my face, making me feel all woozy, like I got the butterflies in my tum-tum. “Are you okay?”
I looked up at Purronica with hearts in my eyes.
“Is… is that a Chihuly?” I stammered in a lovestruck daze, pointing to the colourful blown-glass chandelier hanging above us.
Purronica furrowed her brow and bitch-slapped me back to reality. “Snap out of it, Jimothy!”
“Yess, Mommy!”
Purronica gave me the look.
I pushed up my dark-rimmed glasses and started ninja-crawling toward the kitchen.
Purronica peered over the leather lounger we were hiding behind and wondered, “Where in the heck is Carmen San Diego –”
“From San Bernardino!”
I whipped the kitchen door open, half-expecting to see her standing there.
“Jimothy – NO!”
Instead, the reanimated corpse of a zombified cat came flying at me, screeching and scratching as it tried to eat my face off.
“Kitty Holmes!” I screamed in abject terror – and kind of like a fanboy. “Get it off me!”
“@hernameismswhiskers!”
“Who’s Ms. Whiskers?”
“The cat.”
“The cat is Ms. Whiskers?”
“No! @hernameismswhiskers!”
“That’s what I said!”
Purronica died a little inside.
“@hernameismswhiskers, the cat, is Kitty Holmes on TV.”
“I knew it – the studio never even replaced her!”
“Carmen San Diego CANNOT know about this!” Purronica shot back. “If this story gets out – the network will cancel Mystery Cat!”
“Awe.”
“Hold still!”
Purronica ripped the psycho hose beast off my face and stuffed it into a closet.
That’s when Purronica’s agent called in a panic.
“Oh my God!” Purronica yowled. “Carmen San Diego’s live-streaming outside my house!”
Purronica turned the TV to Channel 7 News.
Our silhouettes stared back at us, like a couple of cucks.
We were sitting ducks in a glass house, watching ourselves get fucked on national television.
“I always wanted to be on TV.”
“Shut it down!” Purronica shrieked.
