TWo Peaks

The scene is a forest glade, deep in the woods. OM, Boz, Broken, Sheriff Harry Truman, Lucy Moran and Log Lady are sat around a green table, which perfectly matches the colour of a Parisian tea pot in the centre, while the rest of the table is occupied by large piles of doughnuts. To the left, Alf and Astraea share a luxurious chaise longue, sipping their G&T and Perrier, while Banjaxer, Rat, Loughton Lil and GWO are sat on a bench to the right. Special Agent Cooper is stood next to an old-fashioned blackboard, and in the distance, a skinny man hides behind a bush. 

Agent Cooper (holding a damn hot cup of coffee): Before we begin with today's meeting, I would like to introduce you all to a couple of countries... (turning the blackboard that now displays some maps)... named Brazil, Bahrain, Egypt, and Ukraine. You ought to know, there's so many people...

Log Lady (interrupting with a voice that tolerates no dissent): FIRST WE'LL HAVE TEA. OM?

OM obediently and slightly intimidated serves tea for everyone at the table, under the bemused looks of Alf and Astraea. Boz's hand stretches out to grab a doughnut, but hastily draws back as he catches Log Lady's eye.

Agent Cooper: Thank you all for coming. As you all know, we have gathered here to investigate the murder of MorrisseysWorld. Harry, would you please introduce all the characters and briefly sum up their role in MW. Lucy, please write all the names that Sheriff Truman calls on this board.

Sheriff Truman: Sure, Coop.

Lucy dutifully jumps up and scurries over to the blackboard.

Lucy: Agent Cooper? Shall I write the names one after the other, separated by a comma or a semicolon, or one below the other? You see if I write them in a row, there might not be enough space for all names to fit in one line, but if I ...

Agent Cooper (interrupting): One below the other, Lucy. Thank you.

Sheriff Truman walks around the scenery while introducing everyone.

Sheriff Truman: So, here's OM - mysterious head of MorrisseysWorld and alleged founder of Blue Rose Society. Boz - seminal guitariste and drag model. Broken - Boy Belieber and professional c**t. Over here (walks over to the chaise longue) we have Alf - seminal artiste, mesmerising Twotter poet and Northern style icon, and Astraea - full time Star Maiden and lover of legs.

Lucy (struggling to keep up): Sheriff Truman, was that first Boz and then Broken or first Broken and then...

Agent Cooper: It's alright Lucy. Just write the names down in any order.

Sheriff Truman (walking over to the bench on the right): And here we have Banjaxer, who once wrote an article about MorrisseysWorld...

Banjaxer: The one that John Robb the c**t never paid me for!

OM (barking): That one was utter sh*te anyway, I cringed when I read it. Told good old John R. to take it down immediately, which is probably why he never bothered to pay you!

Banjaxer growls angrily and goes back to deleting his tweets from the night before.

Sheriff Truman: ... and Rat, chronicler and self-proclaimed umbilical chord of the Mozziah...

Rat: Yes, yes. I stumbled upon the MorrisseysWorld blog in 2011, and I approached it with both excitement and a positive and open mind.

Log Lady spits out the pitch gum she was chewing.

Sheriff Truman: ... and these are Loughton Lil and GWO, loyal followers of MW and long time buddies of the Rat.

GWO (side glancing at Rat): I might reconsider that, the old rodent still owes me some dough for that pizza in Bournemouth.

All of a sudden, a portal opens and out jumps Special Agent Albert Rosenfield, with a face that displays both pity and disgust as he looks around the scene, but lightens up when he spots Agent Cooper.

Albert: Coop! As you already suspected, the traces that were left by those countless fake accounts were all red herrings, but once the local morgue idiots where done with the corpse, they were so kind to let me do my work without interfering. Look what I've found under the victim's fingernail! Left middle finger.

Alf: My fingernails collect the world's problems...

Albert, ignoring Alf, walks over to Cooper to present his evidence.

Agent Cooper (inspects the little plastic bag and looks up with a bright smile): Albert, this is amazing.

Everyone's eyes are now fixed on Cooper, with the facial expressions ranging between clueless question marks, sceptic curiosity, and uncomfortable foreboding.

Sheriff Truman: What is it Coop? What has Albert found?

Albert (with sardonic smile): Look, Coop. It speaks.

Before Sheriff Truman has the chance to let his knuckles speak to Albert's chin, Albert jumps back into the portal.

Agent Cooper: Harry, this is a breakthrough! The murderer has left a letter. I assume he's spelling his name!

Sheriff Truman: Which letter is it??

Agent Cooper: It's a B. Lucy, please underline all names on that board that start with a B!

Lucy diligently goes through the list and carefully underlines all the respective names. Alf and Astraea simultaneously lift an eyebrow while gazing at Broken, the Rat and the Rat's pack stare suspiciously at Banjaxer, while OM is looking daggers at Boz. Log Lady strokes her log.

OM: Boz you utter c**t! What is the meaning of this? Have you made up pessoas to drive people away from MW? Is it really just because I crossed your precious greasy falafels off the rider? If this turns out to be true, my new MD will be called Mando, you b*****d.

Boz (looking shocked): But Sire! Sire! I'd never! I... I... I don't even know what a pissoa is! And I'm really glad that you crossed those falafels off the rider, Lyn is very pleased that I almost fit into that fabulous dress again that she bought me for my 50th. You see, we need to keep an eye on that bank account, we're still recovering from all those extra costs I had to pay in the past two years, booking hotels and flights without travel cancellation insurance...

OM (with narrowed eyes): Are you being disrespectful, Boz?

Boz shakes his head so hard that his cheeks flap a bit.

Alf (whispering to Astraea): So it was the Broken Boy Belieber. One isn't surprised at all, there has always been something very odd about the c**t.

Astraea nods knowingly and opens her mouth to reply, but no sound leaves her throat as she spots a skinny man in shorts, approaching from the distance. For a second her eyes widen as does her mouth, then she turns away in utter disgust.

Astraea (choking): Never in my life have my eyes been confronted with such HIDEOUS legs. Alf my dear, please be so kind and hand me my calendar of BB legs immediately!

Alf, with compassionate countenance, gets the calendar out of his stylish man bag, and Astraea instantly hides behind it, still choking. The rest of the group watches the skinny man with bewilderment, as he slowly comes closer.

Sheriff Truman (tilting his head): What on earth IS that? Is he dancing?

Agent Cooper (tilting his head in the same direction): It would seem so. I think he's even singing.

The skinny man has now reached the group and dances backwards in pirouettes around them.

Log Lady (with a face that could make OM sing Golden Lights as standard opener for the rest of his days): THE FISH DON'T SING TONIGHT.

Skinny Man (squealing): ...kcuf gnikcuF

Lucy, with her mouth slightly open, tilts her head by almost 90°, like dogs do when they try to understand human.

Skinny Man (squawking): ...stiwkcuf ytekcuf ouy ffo kcuF

Alf (now choking too): Astra, darling, please would you hand me my ear plugs? I do not want to hear anything!

From behind the BB calendar, a hand appears with Alf's ear plugs, who swiftly rams them in, then knocks down his G&T and sinks back with a relieved sigh.

OM: What is this gh*stly noise? Boz. BOZ! Bring me my microphone this instance!

Boz tromps away with astonishing legerity to get OM's mic, and OM starts singing an a capella selection of his latest millenium masterpiece on the top of his lungs. In the distance, a number of audience members appears, attracted by OM's sonorous bell-like baritone, but as they approach, they instantly turn away in terror as the skinny man's voice transforms from piercing shrieks to chain saw.

Skinny Man (screeching): ...sdratkcuf ytekcuf gnikcuf uoy erom emos ffo kcuf won dnA

As soon as all audience members are scared away, he slowly dances back to his bush with a complacent smile, accompanied by gasps of relief from the slightly benumbed group. While everyone still recovers, another portal opens and out stumbles Agent Rosenfield again.

Albert (confused): You're all still sitting here? Anyway. Coop! I can't believe it took me a whole week to discover this, but we've found another letter, right thumb this time. It's an R!

Everyone looks around, confused. Log Lady's log starts twitching.

Lucy: Agent Cooper, as the murderer spells his name as you said, should I just underline those names that begin with an R, or all those whose names contain an R? So, that would be Broken, Astraea, Rat, and Banjaxer? But there is no B in Astraea or Rat, so just Broken and Banjaxer?

Agent Cooper (deep in thoughts): Yes, yes, Lucy.

Lucy: Should I underline those names with a solid or a dashed line? Because those names don't begin with an R, just...

Agent Cooper (snapping his finger): No Lucy, wait. My intuitive Tibetan techniques tell me that we're barking up the wrong Douglas fir. R is not amongst us now.

OM: Of course he's not! R is my incapable secretary! But you cannot possibly imply that he'd be responsible for MW's murder, the utter c**t can't even spell correctly.

Sheriff Truman rubs his jaw, then shakes his head.

Sheriff Truman: Coop, I give up. All these traces lead us nowhere.

Broken: And how would a mentally deficient provincial such as your pityful self possibly solve this riddle? I have an IQ of 170! The case is clear, we have a B and an R. It was Banjaxer! You can arrest the c**t, Coops. It can only be him, as his name is the only one that starts with a B and ends on an R.

Banjaxer: As does Bieber's name! You want to arrest him too now?

Broken is about to answer back, but instead leans back, suddenly lost in thoughts, with increasingly glossy eyes.

Boz (nervous): There's no proof that the murderer left the first and the last letter of his name! It... it could be... his initials instead! Or... (heavily thinking)... it's just as Agent Cooper Sir said before, he's spelling his name! B.. R.. It was Broken all along!

Boz, looking very proud to have figured that out, points hectically at Broken, who is still too lost in his fantasies of Bieber in handcuffs to even notice. OM stares at Boz with even narrower eyes than usual, but gets interrupted by Log Lady before he can tell him off.

Log Lady: A PALE HORSE CLIMBED A TREE THAT NIGHT.

Agent Cooper (with stony face): Margaret, what has your log seen?

Log Lady: ASK IT.

Cooper, with an even stonier face, looks at the log that's resting in Margaret's arms, and while he's trying to figure out a way out of this situation, the portal opens again.

Albert (ignoring his confusion as to why the whole group is still sitting there after three weeks): Coop! You won't believe it, but we found a third letter! It was well hidden where nobody would've suspected it...

Agent Cooper: Which finger this time, Albert?

Albert: No finger! That's why it took us so long to find it. It was under a toe nail! Left little toe.

Albert hands the small plastic bag with the letter over to Cooper who inspects it carefully, under the impatient looks of Sheriff Truman.

Agent Cooper: Holy smoke! It's a T!

Boz, after carefully double-checking his ID, comes to the conclusion that nobody would suspect him any longer now, and can finally concentrate on the still untouched piles of doughnuts on the table, accompanied by Banjaxer. Lucy eagerly goes through the list on the blackboard, but finds no name that starts with a T, and looks at Sheriff Truman, seeking for help. The group on the bench to the right looks slightly uneasy, while Alf and Astra yawn into their drinks.

Sheriff Truman: Coop, I'm sorry but I'm completely lost now.

Agent Cooper: Harry, this case looks far more complicated than we thought. I think what we need now is some stones and empty bottles for me to perform my subconsciously gained technique, where mind and body work hand in hand to...

Broken (who can't restrain himself any longer): You set of illiterate c**ts! Don't you see it? It was RAT!

Rat, looking even more uncomfortable now, jumps up to make an attempt to defend himself, but is interrupted by a sudden bang as Log Lady's log self-combusts.

Lucy (assiduously): But Mr. Broken, there is no B in RAT, just an A, and A comes before B in the alphabet...

Broken (with an eyeroll that would make OM jealous): Shut up you st*pid little cretin, I wasn't aware that poodles can speak!

Rat (getting himself together): You cannot possibly be serious! I am the KEEPER of the flame! For years and years I've done my best to spread the word, I scanned Twitter for HOURS to look for members of OM's audience to badger them into bringing a BLUE ROSE to his shows, and I blogged AND blogged AND blogged my heart out! (looking shifty now) There's only one person who would be capable of this most iniquitous deed, it is from this moment onwards the GENERAL consensus that it was that s*dding b*st*rd BoReTenzi! He EVEN had a motive, I have it on GOOD authority that he's a bitter c**t who also stole the morrisseysworld.blogspot address. A certain MYSTERIOUS person that I'm NOT permitted to mention left an according message in the Twit Arms LOO, which I'm NOT permitted to quote. But I shall blog about it right now.

Rat, looking content about how well he managed to sneak out of the situation, but with an annoyed side glance at Broken, walks back to the bench, under the frenetic applause of Loughton Lil and GWO.

Rat (turning to them with encouraging enthusiasm): You get it, you just get it!

OM (suspiciously): Thank you, old Ratbags... (straightening himself up) Broken, how did you get that ridiculous idea that it was the Rat who killed MW? Explain yourself at once!

Broken: Do I really have to spell it out for you, you d*ft blockheads? T, R, B. The. Rats. Back.

Broken, fully aware of the bomb he just dropped, leans back to watch the following outrage with grim satisfaction.

OM (fuming): RODENT! How dare you!

Rat (shaking): But OM, it was YOU who instructed me to behave like a bitchy little c**t to keep the group small! I just did what I was told! And you said it would impress Morrissey if I treat people like sh*t!

Alf covers his head with his hands, almost in tears, accompanied by loud snorts from behind the BB calendar.

Lucy (who had enough now): You despicable little creature! I see very clearly how you do it! You libel and abuse people and call them names like Bitchy Barney and Bitter Billy only to get a reaction from them, and...

Rat: WOULD YOU KINDLY KEEP YOUR NOSE OUT?

Lucy (gets really agitated): ...and when they defend themselves then you censor them and block them and complain that they were so mean to you! You talk a lot ABOUT people, but never WITH them! It's the simplest and cheapest of all tricks!

Lucy needs a moment to catch her breath, which OM uses to interrupt her outburst with his own tirade.

OM: That does it! You st*pid f***ing sorry excuse for an imbecile! I ordered you to behave like a c**t to see if you WOULD behave like a c**t! And you certainly didn't disappoint!! Have you ever wondered why that promised new MW parody never surfaced? Has ANY of your poor little fools ever wondered!?

Rat (between fury and terror): I NEED my poor little fools, I'm nothing without them! And what a pleasure it was to punish the DREARY agitators! How much I ENJOYED creating conflict after conflict with my LUDICROUS imputations! And that rush of POWER I felt each time when I deleted their comments! Please OM, I feed on their distress! I need it! Just as much as the fawning! (looking slightly insane now) Blue Rose is MINE, MINE, MINE! They must all bring roses in MY honour, JUST as I asked them to!!

Rat, heavily breathing and with froth at his mouth, looks around, but all he notices are deafening silence and perplexed faces.

Sheriff Truman: I'd say this case is closed then.

The Sheriff walks over to Rat to take him under arrest.

Broken (patting the rodent's back as he's taken away): Don't worry, old furry friend. The Blue Rose Society IS YOUR society after all. Those TWoM b*****s won't get just one more flimsy sign to report on, I bet they're all homophobic tw*ts anyway. You got that Alf? Alf?

Broken looks over to the chaise longue, but finds it empty.

Sheriff Truman: Who would've imagined that it was the rodent all along, this is...

Agent Cooper (lifting his hand): Wait, Harry. Something's not right here.

Albert: What's that awful smell?

Log Lady: THE OWLS ARE NOT WHAT THEY SEEM.

The wind freshens abruptly, lifts up the greenery, and lets it dance in tiny tornados around the group of characters, who, under the bewildered looks of the investigators, suddenly blend into each other.

Alfstraea: One cannot continue without pictures of BB, bring me songs of BB, BB, BB...

Bralf: Pink boots are made for running...

Ratbro: Beliebe, beliebe, beliebe, because we must, because you must...

Astrat: Three little rats, three blind mice! Dance with me, dance with me, somebody dance with me...

An owl cries in the distance. OM breaks out in hysterical laughter.

OM: WHO IS MORRISSEY? WHO IS MORRISSEY? WHO IS MORRISSEY?