After a night of binge drinking, the morning wasn't as sweet for our hero, Le Cactus. Hung over and miserable, he had one branch on the sink bracing him and the other pulling back his needles to keep out of the way of his chlorophyll vomit. It wasn't the best way to start a Monday but Le Cactus had work to do. Serious work.
This hang over would have to hang on until tomorrow, Le Cactus thought while flushing the toilet and putting on his favorite wide-brimmed hat made purely out of walrus leather. This was not only his detective hat but it was also his gardening hat. He could use it for multiple occasions. Well, except for funerals and weddings. He had his top hat for that sort of thing.
Our hero looked up into the mirror, gazing into his tired, scraggly face and the night before came flooding back into his mind. There was a party at Begonia's place. He had to go; he had an obligation to the party plant inside of him.
The few things he remembered was doing a headstand and dancing to trashy disco for nearly two hours. The rest was a blur. He must've blacked out and someone had to have taken him home for he had woken up to the sound of his alarm and his snapdragon barking to be let out to pee.
There was also a voice message waiting on his phone
"Le Cactus! Le Cactus! I know you're there! Please, pick up! I have urgent news in regards to the Pickle Brothers! They've struck again and this time they're not holding back! You know poor Mrs. Oregano? Oh they did a number on her, cutting her up and seasoning her whole apartment with her own body parts! You have to hurry! Please! Her husband's at the station now and he tearing up my reports I just filed! Oh, Mr. Oregano, stop! Stop that at once! Those are very important! Ahh!"
It had been his secretary and second-hand-man, Spinach. The sense of urgency in the message had gotten Le Cactus's pulse up and his heart beat erratically in his cactus-y chest. There was no time to lose.
Washing up was simple for Le Cactus that day, splashing water on his face and smearing deodorant under his sour pits, he rushed out the door still tucking his pants in as he forced his way into his big white truck. Going over the speed limit wasn't out of the question for our hero, but it seemed as if he hit every single stop light toward the station.
At one red light, a friend of his pulled up and motioned for him to roll his window down.
"Hey, Le Cactus! Great party last night! I'm real sorry about your head, though! The beer was great and it's a shame you didn't even get to drink any!"
"W-what? I didn't drink last night?"
"Nah, you mentioned something about being a designated driver for the president. Even though that was after your fall
Ah well! Maybe next time! Say hi to the president for me!"
The light turned green and Le Cactus's friend laughed out his window as he sped off and Le Cactus went on as well, frustrated that he felt like moss on a rainy day and didn't even drink a lick for it. It was all his horrid balance's fault, or so he'd like to think.
The station sat near the center of town, just a block from the courthouse and City Hall and it was odd to see the parking lot empty for once. The Tumbleweed kids were rolling around and Le Cactus had to shoo them on home. Not even an ace detective can enjoy a Monday off, but, like his mom always said, "Justice never sleeps and never takes a holiday off from work. Even on Mondays".
"Gee, thanks, ma." Le Cactus muttered as he went inside and hung his jacket on the coat racket.
He could hear loud noises coming from his offices and looking inside he saw it was a complete mess. There stood Spinach crouching behind the desk sniffling and clinging to some papers as Mr. Oregano was throwing a lawn chair around.
"Mr. Oregano, I've received word about your wife and I am truly sorry but destroying mine and my colleague's office will not do you any good."
Both occupants of the room turned their leafy gazes toward Le Cactus and Mr. Oregano ceased his violent uproar, instead turning and clinging to Le Cactus's button up shirt. Mindful of the detective's pricklies, he looked up into his face.
"Le Cactus, I know it's those Pickle Brothers. They carved P. B. and J. on my walls! You have to find them and arrest them or I will. I will find them and I will kill them!"
Le Cactus pushed Mr. Oregano away and looked at Spinach who was trying desperately to tidy up the mess around his desk.
"Are we sure it's not a copycat?"
"No, sir. It's definitely the Pickle Brothers. We found traces of their pickle juice DNA where Mrs. Oregano had put up a fight. We also know as of right now where they could be located."
"Where would that be?"
"The abandoned Tulip Factory is where people spotted their car as they left the scene."
"Alright, then. Call the squad and let's go. Do not worry, Mr. Oregano. We will get these bastards and they will pay for seasoning your house with your own wife's leaves. You have my cactus word, as prickly as it may be."
"I believe you, Le Cactus."
Our hero couldn't help but feel uneasy and hopeful but those three simple words (technically there were five, in case you missed it or don't know how to count).
"Why don't you go on home, Mr. Oregano? And we'll update you on how things are going later?"
"Alright, Le Cactus
As long as these freaks see to justice."
"My middle name is justice."
"Is it with a capitalized 'j'?"
"No, Spinach. It's lowercased."
Spinach, Le Cactus, I'm out. I'm sorry for the trouble I caused."
"Don't mention it, Mr. Oregano. I understand. If my wife was brutally murdered I'd be a little upset, too. Wouldn't you, Spinach?"
"I guess so
Mr. Oregano left after insisting on shaking Spinach's leaf in apology for ruining his office and tearing up his papers.
"The squad will be here any second, Le Cactus."
Le Cactus started getting ready to storm the abandoned factory, grabbing his bullet proof cloak and top hat.
To be continued? Probably.