Rock'n'Roll Is The Devil's Music

Last week, Chuck had us making up sentences which were 15 words long. This week, we had to pick 3 of those sentences - our own choices - and make a flash fiction of 2,000 of any theme. I picked out:

'I said, drop the ukulele and put your hands on your head.' - Eric Goelbelbecker

'The smoke he exhaled curled to the ceiling and took the form of a naked woman.' - Susan K. Swords

'He limped up the stairs and leaned on her doorbell.' - Donald

Thank you all for your wonderful sentences... they were great! 

enjoy!

“I said, drop the ukulele and put your hands on your head.”  Lights flashed around against the darkened alley as he cornered the strange little offender at the end of it. Ray Boltano had been looking for a man who fitted this description for three weeks now; and yes, he had a ukulele, “On your knees now!”

“Please don’t hurt me, I’ll do anything you want.” His voice begged, “Just don’t lose my instrument; it’s all I have in the world.”

Ray pulled on a leather glove and picked the tiny guitar up by the neck, placed it into a clear evidence bag and zipped it up. He didn’t want to touch the damned thing because it was too damned clean… he’d never seen a guitar without marks of use on it; but this one had not a single one, “Come on, boys, head back to the precinct and check out this guy’s story."

The captain sighed as he turned the tiny guitar in the bag over in his hands, “Are you sure you have the right guy, Ray?”

“Jeez Louise, I hope so.” He sighed, “We’ve pulled in every person who owns one of these stupid things and none of them are as strangely-dressed as this one.

They looked through the two-way mirror at the man who was dressed in a dark green velvet suit. He was hand-cuffed to the table, and was quietly looking around the room, making sure he was alone. Then, he looked at the cuffs, pointed at them with his right index finger and they unlocked!

“Holy shit, we have the right guy!” Ray raced from the adjoining room, grabbing the engraved cuffs from his pocket as he did. He burst in to the room, jumped on the table and – quicker than the man could react – recuffed him to the table again. He removed the other normal handcuffs and put them in the bin, then kept his distance.

“Do you really think another set of cuffs will keep me?” his strong Irish accent mocked Ray as he pointed to the new set and found they stayed closed around his wrists, “What the Hell! What are…” he took a closer look at them and found they were engraved with symbols to keep him right where he was wanted, “You bastard! I have no magic with these on!”

Ray smiled, “I know. And now, I can interview you properly.” He opened the door a little, was handed the ukulele in the bag and showed it to him has he pulled the chair from across the table closer to the door and sat down on it, “And I’d rather sit over here so you don’t do some weird-ass mojo on me. Now, how long have you been alive?”

“Leprechauns live a long time.” He snorted.

“I know… I need to know your age, so I know your magic status.” He opened a folder with a thick collection of information inside and leaned it on his knee, “Age please … and a name would be good.”

“Aaww, shite. Okay, me name’s Shamus. I’m three hundred and fifty years old and have been using my ukulele for magicks for one hundred and fifty of those years.” He sighed, “I can’t believe I got caught.”

“It’s the twenty-first century, of course you got caught.” He muttered, “So, what do you do with your magicks?”

He pulled out an e-cigarette from his inside jacket and pulled on it, “You don’t mind if I vapor do you?”

“No, it’s not illegal in police stations yet; and it’s less messy.”

Shamus pulled on the device and the scent of lavender filled the room, as did the vapor. The smoke he exhaled curled up the ceiling and took the form of a naked woman – this was something Ray had to do a double-take at because he’d never seen somebody do this before, and it only stayed a moment or two before it dissipated, “I make women think they’re men are cheating on them in such a way, they end up killing them.” he chuckled, “I end up disappearing just as they come to their senses and you guys show up… and who would believe some woman yappin’ about a Leprechaun?”

It was then Ray realised who he had in custody. So many women had gone to prison because they had violently murdered their husbands, boyfriends and fiancés – and they had all mentioned a man in a green suit who was there the whole time, telling them their nearest and dearest was being unfaithful, “I see. So, how does the ukulele come into play?”

“I have it playing over the phone when we start talking… but they barely hear it; so they don’t really notice it’s a spell I’m casting.” He said.

Ray glanced at the tiny instrument he had leaned up against the wall next to him in the bag, “So, if I was to play it, I could cast a spell?”

“No… yes… kind of.” He shrugged, “You have to have the gift of the gab.”

Dumping the file folder on the floor to his right, Ray picked up the evidence bag and looked at it. He didn’t know if Shamus was talking him into touching this thing by being negative about it – or he seriously was being honest about how it all worked, “Why doesn’t it show any age or use marks?”

“It’s magical… I cast spells with it.” He answered, “Just like these cuffs are magical and I can’t get out of them.”

“If I was to break or burn this ukulele, what would happen to you?”

“It’s not me you should be concerned about, Detective, it’s your own safety.” Shamus said.

“Why?”

“Well, seeing you’re handling the bag without gloves, you’ve already touched the instrument – even though it’s in a bag – and seeing it’s not destroyed you already, it shows it wants to connect with you.” The man in green said, “This means it’s finished with me and wants to work with you… if you’d notice what colour your suit is now, you’d understand.”

Ray looked down at his suit and found his dark grey, off-the-rack suit he’d worn that morning, had turned into the same green suit as Shamus’, “Oh my God!” Glaring up at the man, he growled, “What have you done to me!”

“Nothing, honest, I would never do something to you, because you are only doing your job, Detective. It’s the tiny instrument you have in your hands… and trust me, once it’s made its mind up, you cannot escape it.”

“But your suit is the same … it hasn’t changed… so it means I’m working for you.” Ray said.

From the two-way mirror, the Captain watched Ray as he began yelling at the empty chair in the room, “What’s wrong with Ray?”

The precinct psychiatrist watched on, “Who is he talking to?”

“We better get in there.”

They opened the door to find one of their finest, about to destroy a ukulele. But then, he stopped himself in mid-swing and looked at it, looked at the chair, “You’re asking me to take over your job?”

Shamus glanced at the two intruders, and back at him, “And be careful of these two – they can’t understand what a goldmine you’re onto; because if they find out how precious that little guitar is, they’ll want it too.”

Ray held the guitar close to his chest, “You can’t have it!”

“We don’t want it… and who are you talking to in here?”

“Shamus… he’s right there.” He pointed to the chair, “Can’t you see him?”

The Captain and the shrink looked at each other and back at him, “We let Shamus go over two hours ago. I don’t know who you’re talking to Ray, but your shift finished five hours ago, you should be at home sleeping.” The Captain said, “Take the little guitar home if you want to, it doesn’t bother us in the least. Shamus said he didn’t want it anymore anyway… he wanted to buy a new one.”

“It’s magical.” Ray said as he was led from the room and outside to a squad car where he was driven home.

There you go, Detective Boltano, “Now, sir, get some sleep, you’ll feel better tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, better.” He walked up to the apartment building, let himself in and started up the stairs towards the third floor (the lifts still weren’t working).

“So, you’re out!” Shamus showed up at the end of the second corridor, “Wonderful! Your training starts now… play the song that’s been going around in your head since you left the station – don’t tell me you haven’t heard one; it's there.”

As he pulled the ukulele from the evidence bag, the music he’d heard whispering from it became louder. His fingers twitched and he started strumming the strings of the instrument as he walked along the corridor. One of the doors began to glow a bright yellow/gold colour in time with the music as he approached it, and with half-closed lids, he watched it as heard a fight behind it escalate. Ringing the doorbell, Ray heard it stop suddenly and the door open, “I heard noise, are you okay Ma’am?”

His voice sounded so even and ordinary compared to how he thought it would.

“She’s fine… bugger off!” the man shoved him, but Ray didn’t move. Instead, he pulled his piece and shot the man.

The woman screamed as her husband dropped to the floor, dead, “You murdered my husband, you monster!”

He smiled as he turned and walked away, “Just doing my job, Ma’am.”

Ray played the little guitar and worked over a few people in his building – by-passing his own place. Then he arrived to the tenth floor, where he was splattered in blood and limping because his football injury was giving him hell. The last one was a prostitute – a woman of the night – and it was wrong to have her in the building, “Just simply wrong.” He muttered as he limped up the stairs and leaned on her doorbell.

“Freeze! Put down the ukulele and put your hands on your head!”

“I’m just doing my job.” He turned and looked to find his old partner, Bill Richardson standing there.
“Ray, don’t make me do this, man. I said, drop the ukulele and put your hands on your head.”

“Come on, you’re not…”

"Last warning, Ray. I don't want to, but I will."
"We're partners, for God's sake." Ray begged.
"Correction: we were partners until you started killing people."
Ray took a few steps towards Bill, pulling his piece. Bill took no chances.

A shot rang out and Ray dropped the ukulele as he fell to the floor dead.

Bill knelt to the pick up the little guitar to find, a man in a green suit by his side, “It’s nice little instrument. Such a pity he thought it was magical.”

“Uh… yes.”

“Bill, just bag it and label it.” The Captain ordered as he tried to keep back the residents, “Jeez, we didn’t know it was Ray doing all this.” He turned and walked away, leaving Bill with the instrument in his hands.

Shamus showed up by his side again, “Now, we have work to do.”