O' Halloran: The Stamp of Death: Part 1

Written by Jesus Budda

Sunday, 11 April 2010


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Continuing the further adventures of Detective O' Halloran
and the citizen's of Psychotown.

If you haven't a clue what this is all about then maybe you should catch up on previous adventures here:



O' Halloran: Murder with a Capital Punishment.

Part 1

Shitzville Apartments, PsychoTown West.
1.34 AM.

"You're bustin' my balls, man!"

"Oh yeah? Well wait til I ram my shoe up your ass!"

The skinny teen cowers in the shadowy corner while the large, fat man pokes at his balloon-shaped testicles with a pin.

"You want some more of that, eh? Well, I got lots more where that comes from", jibes O' Halloran.

Fatter and more wrinkled than from the last time we saw him, but still that unmistakable O' Halloran: the O' Halloran that traveled back through time to save humanity; the O' Halloran who fought Aliens from another dimension; the same O' Halloran who fucked every goddamned broad this side of shit creek river.

He glances down at the prone teenager and prods him once more in the balls with the needle.

"Gimme names, kid. I want those names and I won't quit 'til you spit 'em out".

The kid wipes some snot from his nose and hides the tear dripping from his eye. He rises, dusts himself off and tries to make himself look tougher than he has any right to be.

"Pugsley, Mr. Blobby and Captain Haddock"

"Is that it?"

"What? You want me to name every children's television character ever?", whines the kid.

"Yeah. So what's it to you!", O' Halloran marks the name down next to Tinky Winky and the rest of the Tellytubbies, then gives a clip around the ears to the kid and sends him on his way.

"Get the fuck out of town, kid. And get those balls seen to before they go blue".

As the boy limps away into the darkness, O' Halloran stretches and yawns. Two hours into another late shift in Psychotown. Can't get any shittier than this even if a giant pigeon with diarrhea flew overhead.
Just as that very idea crosses O' Halloran's mind, a giant pigeon with diarrhea flies overhead and takes a dump on his trenchcoat.

"Fuck you, pigeon!". O' Halloran waves a clenched fist at the sky and mutters under his breath.

He slowly skulks back to the unmarked patrol car and eases his fat frame inside.
"Bird shit on you again?", asks his partner Pip.

"Yep", O' Halloran grunts. "I thought birds sleep at night"

Pip snigger's into his sleeve while O' Halloran gives him dirty look - the kind of look you give a dog when he rubs his genitals against your favourite trousers before a hot date with a woman who likes clean trousers.

Pip is an odd sort; transported through time by a freak thunderstorm, he arrived fresh in Psychotown three months ago and rose in the ranks to become O' Halloran's sidekick and companion on these cold evening sojourns.

Born and raised in 19th Century Devon, Pip has the unmistakable air of a man born in 19th Century Devon.

"You know, I haven't had a public wank all day", O' Halloran blurts out frankly.

"Really?". Pip seems more surprised by his colleagues lack of wanking action than the fact that he wanks in public. "You wanna do it now?".

"Nah. I'll wait until later. Save it up 'til I'm in the mood".

A message comes through on the radio.


Pip turns to his partner excitedly. "Thats a dead body killed in a bizarre manner that possibly involves some sort of sexual element!"

O' Halloran picks up the receiver. "This is O' Halloran.. Over"


"I'm sitting down. What is yours? Over"


"With pleasure, Sweetcheeks. Over"

O' Halloran pumps his foot on the pedal and, erm, pedals the car. The Police department have been having a funding crisis and have had to resort to pedal-powered vehicles.

Its a crazy, fucked up world.

* * *

They arrive at the scene and push past the yellow tape and ascend the rickety staircase leading into a gloomy room lit by a single naked bulb.

"What we got?". O' Halloran enters into the well-worn routine questions.

"One dead female and one dead male. Both dead", comes the response from the big black patrol officer.

"Are they naked?"


"Well strip 'em. I wanna see some tits and ass", O' Halloran gruffly replies.

While the officer begins the tiresome task of removing the victims garments, O' Halloran takes some pictures using his Polaroid camera.

"Hey, O' Halloran, what you doin'? They don't sell those Polaroid films anymore"

"I know. The camera's empty. I just like looking through the viewfinder. Makes me feel important. Like David Baily or Annie Liebowitz. Its a quirk of mine."

When the bodies are completely laid bare, O' Halloran steps forward and has a closer look.

"Just as I suspected". He scratches his fat chin with his fat fingers. "Nice tits. And he has a small dick like the nib of a pencil".

He paces around the room and stands in the corner, unzips his pants and takes out his dick. Puzzled, the police officer wants to say something but is frozen with a mixture of curiosity and revulsion.

"Oh, yeah baby. Thats the spot!", O' Halloran pants as he has a nice, hard wank against the wall.

"Is this legit?", the officer asks Pip.

"Give him some space. The Detective knows what he's doing. He's got years of experience. This is how he finds clues. Leave him be."

O' Halloran steps back, stuffs his dangly bits back inside his trousers and points at the stain he's left on the wall, encouraging Pip and the officer to come over and have a look.

"What do you think that looks like?", o' Halloran asks as if he already has an answer.

"Dunno. The face of Jesus?", the officer says, rubbing his brow and squinting.

"No. Look closer, past the wank stain. Higher up. See?"

Pip pushes in tighter and a knowing look crosses his thin face. "Yeah. I see it. I see it now. Right there".

The black officer feels left out and seems upset that all he can see is O' Halloran's messy cum stain. "What is it. What am I supposed to be looking at?".

And then it hits him. Hard.
"Jeeee-zuz!". He seems stunned. "Is that what I think it is?".

O' Halloran nods. "Yep. Thats a Penny Black stamp".

O' Halloran tears back the wallpaper some more and reveals that beneath it are stuck thousands of identical rare stamps.

"Who in their right mind would paper their wall with rare, priceless Penny Black stamps?". Pip shakes his head in amazement.

"I don't know. But something tells me that this case somehow revolves around this vital clue".

A female lab technician from the Crime Scene Investigation Unit walks in, suited up in an unflattering white jumpsuit and protective shoes.
O' Halloran immediately detects her scent - Eau de Lovely, his favourite scent of all.

"Excuse me. Would you mind if I dusted for prints?", she meekly asks.

O' Halloran give her the once over: even through the overalls he can tell she has a shapely Latino figure, big brown eyes that just dry out 'LOVE ME' and lips like sweet cherry's soaked in sugar and warm honey.

He extends his pudgy hand in welcome. "I'm O' Halloran. Detective o' Halloran. Homocide".

"Lopez. Maria Conchita Rodriquez Gonzalez Alonso Lopez. The Crime Unit."

"Thats a beautiful - and long - name. What do your friends call you?".


"And what do your lovers call you?". O' Halloran is in full-on smooth talkin' mode.

"Pussy Lips".

"May I call you Pussy Lips?", O' Halloran flirts.

"You can call me nothing until I give you my number", she flirts back in a sing-song tone.

"I'd like to lick your nipples. Would you like that, honey?"

"Maybe. maybe not..."

Pip folds his arms in exasperation. "Hello. Dead bodies and Penny Blacks in the room. We got some investigating to do, Detective 'O Halloran".

O' Halloran kisses Maria on the hand and lets her begin her work.
He watches her sweet ass wiggle past: he admires it's swishing tail and thinks of how much he misses his own deceased donkey who was abducted by an alien race several weeks previously.

"Still thinking of Bilbo Baggin's", Pip asks.

"Yeah. He was the sweetest ass and closest friend I ever had.", O' Halloran suppresses his tears and gets on with his job - the job of wanking and solving important murder crimes.

They strut out of the room and head back outside into the cool, crisp early morning breeze.

"We need to get in touch with stamp collectors and other nerds like that". O' Halloran pushes into the drivers seat. "But first lets make a stop at the local whore house"

"The local whore house? You got a contact there?"

"It's just a hunch. Those two victims were naked. That makes me think of sex. And that naturally leads me to think of a whorehouse - where my mother raised me and my sister learned her trade."

"But, 'O Halloran, they were only naked when you told the officer to undress them. Before that they were fully clothed!".

"Maybe physically. But psychologically they were naked, or considering getting naked. Why else would a man and a woman be alone in a dingy apartment room like that?"

Pip has to concede that O' Halloran has a point. Not much of a point but a point nonetheless.

The car pulls out into the wet street and makes off at pace towards Dangly McDaniels' House of Whores...


The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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