Meechy lit a winston and stood staring at the ramshackle travel lodge before him.

“You gotta be S**tting me, right? What is this, the Bates motel?”

Pauly strode up beside him, the usual grin glued to his face.

“It ain’t so bad, Meech. Besides. It has rustic charm. When we get back, we can tell everyone we roughed it.”

Shaking his head in resignation, Meechy took a deep drag off his cancer stick and stooped to pick up the suitcase.

“I wonder what old Norman Bates will think when he sees us two guys checkin into one room with just this suitcase. It’ll make for whole different shower scene, I’ll tell you that.”

Pauly’s grinned widened.

“Norman” turned out to be “Julie”, a middle aged redhead with frown lines permanently etched into her brow. She gave the two of them a dubious glance when they entered, clearly not used to actually having guests.

“Canna help you?” She rasped.

“We need a place to stay,” Meechy said through the smouldering stub of his winston. His gaze lingered on Julie’s hair, the most remarkable thing about her. Meechy had to stifle an urge to scream “It’s howdy DOODY time!” Sometimes his mind was an enigma, even to him.

“Two rooms’ll run ya 60 bucks a night total,” Julie said.

“We just need one,” Meechy responded, bracing himself.

“This is Kansas, sir. We don’t go for that coastal crap here. I don’t care if yer married or just frolickin’ through the tulips, you ain’t gonna do it here.”

Meechy sighed. He pulled out his wallet and flipped it open to dislplay the gold shield for the umpteenth time in his career.

“We’re not “coastal”, as you put it. We’re FBI and we’re investigating something in the area and Uncle Sam will only pick up the tab on one room. So can we get a key already?”

Julie gave them both a dubious glance and reluctantly took a room key off the peg board.

“How many nights you stayin’?” she asked.

“For now, one. But something tells me that if we wanted to stay longer, you’d have room for us.”

Julie grunted. She slid a battered brass key across the desk that was attached to even more worn pad that had the number 7 etched into it.

“Room 7’s at the end of the building. That way, if ya really are fruits I don’t have to hear nothing. But you better not leave me no presents on them sheets! It’s not like I gotta maid here besides me!”

“Now don’t you rain on my parade, Johnny Storm Cloud.” Pauly suddenly chimed in, in his best flamer voice. “I’ll cuddle with this here G-man all night long and then some!”

Julie just bared her teeth at the both of them and disappeared into the back room.

“Do you always have to do that, dammit!” Meechy said when they were outside. His complexion had gone molten red with embarrassment.

“Oh Come on Meech,” Pauly said through a chuckle. “You gotta admit these staunch birds need to have their chain jerked every now and then. Besides. It gives them a story to tell their friends over sowbelly and chitlins at the local chow hall.”

“I just can’t believe there’s not another motel anywhere around here.”

“Well why would Holiday Inn wanna lose money in a toilet like this?”

Meechy opened the door to the room, and it was exactly as expected. The floor was covered in a fine layer of dust, the air was stale, and the walls were yellowing with age. Twin double beds stood resolutely to the left, cloaked in drab green comforters and casting off an aura of ancient farts, sweat, and semen. The beds were facing an old sony 19 inch that had to be from the mid eighties and a smudged mirror that gave a stunning view of the back of the TV. All in all, Meechy had slept in better places during his army stint in Thailand.

“Nothing but the best for Uncle Sam’s men,” Pauly said through is grin.

Meechy Grunted and heaved the suitcase on top of the nearest bed.

“Fifty fifty on the air conditioner,” Pauly said as he stooped to turn the dial on old floor model that lay stretched below the room’s only window. It cranked to life with a groan and began rattling loud enough to vibrate the headboards on the beds.

“Shut that sonofa**tch off!” Meechy growled.

“You’re a tyrannical fascist, Meechy,” Pauly said. “It’s a thousand degrees in the shade out here. I know it’s loud but come on. It’ far better than dehydrating ourselves to death.”

“Pauly, we need to think. We’re in this crapper because we have to find Wendell before the Valvoni family does. I can see why he chose this Sh**hole to hide out, but if we can find him, so can the Valvonis. I can’t think with that thing death rattling all over the room.”

“Fine,” Pauly said, shutting the unit back off. “We’ll just call for maintenance when we ask for room service later.”

“Very funny, Pauly. You kill me.”

Meechy opened the suitcase and reached through the interior pockets.

“Damn. No smokes. I’m gonna go out to the car.”

“Sure thing,” Pauly said. The minute the door closed, Pauly flipped the air conditioner back on and knelt down in front of it. Meechy could talk about thinking over the case all he wanted, but Pauly couldn’t do a thing when he was baking like a lasagna. The air conditioner’s rattle was so loud that it jackhammered into his head, but at the same time, it produced a massaging effect. Pauly was soaking it up.

He barely heard the knocking on the door.

“Didja forget the key?” Pauly asked as he got up and shut the air conditioner back off.

“Well…if I only had a brain…” a muffled voice responded.

In the last few seconds of Paul “Pauly” Martin’s life, he had time to register the following as he opened the room door:

That Meechy was standing there, but it was somehow not Meechy. There was a giant hole in the side of Meechy’s face and his eyes were glazed over. Then Meechy fell.

He then noticed the slim lithe figure that had been hiding behind Meechy’s bulk. He registered that this figure was holding what appeared to be a Browning 9mm. He heard the figure as it cheefully said, “Well, well, well. Lookie Who’s here.” He even had time to observe the flash at the muzzle of the gun as his body was propelled backwards into the motel room.

Absurdly, his last thought was of Julie being burdened with THIS cleanup.

The he registered no more…..

“The sufferer suffered a extreme head trauma, a couple of gigantic lacerations, a damaged femur, and 4 damaged ribs. They have no longer regained cognizance. The sufferer’s subsequent of relations has asked a individual nurse to be on responsibility with them across the clock. We have no idea for certain, however we consider that comatose sufferers can pay attention all that’s mentioned round them so please deal with the sufferer as you might some other sufferer. Any questions nurse?” (I consider the maid and butler are psychotic. They stand within the nook whispering and watching at me at times. Why do they get dressed like angels all in white?) “Good morning Mr. Anderson! I am simply going to examine your lungs, middle, and pulse after which I’m going to seem on the bandages in your neck to peer if they want exchanging.” (Please take your hand off my esophagus. You don’t seem to be my spouse!) “All correct then Mr. Anderson, I’m going to deliver you a sponge tub. Won’t that be first-rate?” (How I love ya. How I love ya. You do seem like a swan oh my angel! Are we having a laugh, but? The birds are making a song… And guy, they don‘t lie. The angels are taking me residence within the candy by means of and by means of.) “There now all performed. I’m going to place this blank robe on you after which difference the mattress linens. Let me convey the mattress up just a little bit right here.” (Look out! I am rather specific that there’s any individual underneath my mattress!!! Probably that psychotic maid and butler! Look out my angel!) “All performed Mr. Anderson. I’ll be correct right here should you must want me.” (OMG…. There is a cockroach the dimensions of Cleveland in the toilet! He might be in my mattress in a minute! I believe him coming with the wind!)

“Pea-nutty”

(whistling) ♫ If I only had a brain ♫ (humming) ba-duh-duh, duh-duh, da-duh“ Here we go agaaaaaaain – (thud) ack! ” (bonks head) “Gotta remember not to trust Lucy next time – either that, or have a V-8!” Lucy deadpanned, “When you run, all I can think of is Jerry Lewis!” (thought bubble) “Lucy, you’re a tyrannical fascist.”

“Well. Well. Well. Lookie who’s here. Cough up the bucks!” (he reaches into one of the many hidden pockets and hands her money) “Lucy, I need a new blankie. This one smells permanently like a pig pen.” (grabs blankie, lights match *POOF*, does a google search, orders a new “utiliquilt”) “Hey! Don’t you rain on my parade, Johnny Storm Cloud.” (frowns at soaking wet client under cloud, types a bit) “It’s juuuuuuuuust possible that I am correct.” (types some more) “Perfect! The suuun will come out, toooooooomorrow, tomorrow, bet your $50 that…..”

“Bwa-bwah-bwa-bwah, bwa bwa…My boss looks like a sumo wrestler!….bwa bwah, bwa…lottery? It’s howdy DOODY time!”

“I’ve just got to get back at Lucy. I brought the video cam this time – juuuuust in case. Hmmm…what is this, the Bates motel?” (opens door, sees Lucy stuck half in/half out of floor, sets up video cam, has her hold football in perfect position, runs) “I did it! I did it!….cha, cha cha. Lucy, I gotchya, ha, ha ha!” (does the “touchdown” dance)

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