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Monastery H.E.A.T.

Bad monks, bad monks, whatcha gonna do, whatcha gonna do when dey come fo' you ... (sing-along to Cops theme song)

Monastery Police File - Docket 234

I have been on this beat now for several years. It was always business as usual; nothing big, just a few petty offenses. That's the way it was until that one fateful evening. I'm a cop, but not just any cop. I'm a homicide detective with the Monastery Police.

The call came in at about 0315 hours from dispatch. My partner, Friar Wally, and I had just made a donut run in town. The waitress had never seen us before. She thought that we were into some kind of kinky stuff by the way we were dressed. The donut "chef" came out, and began to heckle us. I showed him my badge. He started laughing and calling me "Sheriff." Friar Wally lost his cool, and apprehended the "chef", applying a tortuous version of the hammerlock. I must confess, as I am a humble monk as well as a cop, that I found it extremely humorous viewing the spectacle of the "chef" choking with his arms flailing about like some kind of chicken. I regained composure, and ordered Friar Wally to release the "chef." I then chastised him strongly.

The call from the dispatcher blared loudly over the laughter of both Friar Wally and myself as we departed the donut shop. It was a "Code M5", a possible homicide in progress, Monastery jurisdiction. The location was at the Monastery "bottoms", the east side, where the renegade monks had taken up habitat. No one ever seems to know what goes on there. I had heard that there were babes living in that sector, brought in by the renegade monk who called himself Uncle Ho. The actual identity of Ho was unknown, and rumor had it that he was high up, probably in the staff of the Office of the Abbot.

We arrived in the sector at 0338 hours, and all was quiet. The buildings in the area were all dark. All were formerly the old monk dormitories in the late fifties. Now they were all boarded up. We noted nothing peculiar and all seemed quiet. We decided to investigate the area just to satisfy our curiosity concerning the amazing starkness of the compound. Since we did not sense any imminent danger, we did not draw our weapons. What a mistake that turned out to be.

We traversed the western quarter of the compound, observing whatever we could with our combo MagLite batons. We were in the middle of the courtyard when all of a sudden at least a dozen high intensity halogen lights were upon us. Along the rooftops I could see the silhouette of at least fifty individuals sporting what appeared to be Monastery Police issue laserscoped rifles. The thin red beams were focused on our chests and heads.

A voice blared out that was almost unintelligible because it appeared to be amplified through some kind of cheap megaphone. A shot ricocheted off of the concrete in front of us. As the dust settled, my hearing improved.

"Drop your weapons!" the cheap megaphone blurted. We complied.

At that moment five wannabe snipers emerged from the darkness, each with headsets, most likely communicating with the clown with the cheap megaphone. Two of the goons came up from behind us and handcuffed and blindfolded us.

"This is really some kind of cheesy remake of Hawaii Five-O," I said to Friar Wally. I felt the butt of a rifle against my right temple.

"Shut up!", yelled the goon.

It was a long walk to wherever we were being taken. I knew that we entered one of the buildings when I heard our footsteps echoing loudly from the walls around us. We continued through several corridors until we entered some kind of large, smoke-filled room. I sensed that there was a large crowd of people. Then it hit me, parfum, Obsession parfum. There were babes in this room. Well, the rumors must be true, but I doubt that we were going to live long enough to confirm them.

We stopped somewhere in the middle of the room. The blindfolds were hastily removed, and the spotlights above us momentarily blinded me. Gradually I could make out faces in the crowd, sitting at tables set up like some seedy nightclub. On the stage was a man sitting in a large chair. He had a babe beside him. I could not make out their faces because of the lights, but deep down inside I knew that Friar Wally and I were standing face-to-face with Uncle Ho.

A voice behind us said, "Here they are, your excellence." I recognized the voice as the guy who was using the cheap megaphone.

There was a long silence. Friar Wally then spoke up.

"We are here investigating a homicide in progress."

Another long silence. Then the shadow spoke.

"There is no homicide."

Friar Wally then foolishly said, "Well then, under Monastery Penal Code Section 4112.2.34, I have to place you under arrest for filing a false complaint."

"Take these two idiots away, and kill them!"

"By your command," replied one of the goons.

I realized that the goon was using some line from Battlestar Gallactica. Did Uncle Ho think he was Boltar? I turned to Friar Wally, and whispered that if there was no homicide prior to our arrival, then there was going to be a double homicide very soon. I could not help but wonder what the hell, excuse my choice of words, was going on here? There was smoking. There were babes. And if there are babes, there must be alcohol and drugs. This was some kind of steamy cauldron of lust we had stumbled upon. But, this was no accident. Someone made the fake call. Someone knew we were to be the responding officers. But, why?

To be continued ...

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