O' Halloran: The Stamp of Death: Part 5

Written by Jesus Budda

Tuesday, 27 April 2010


The story you are trying to access may cause offense, may be in poor taste, or may contain subject matter of a graphic nature. This story was written as a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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Part 1|Part 2|Part 3| Part 4

Part 5

Street - 6.58AM

O' Halloran, Chief McMurtagh, Time-traveling English gentleman detective Pip and sultry Detective Suicide Jones leave the apartment to the crime scene investigation crew and wander back to their cars.

The Chief opens the door, but pauses before getting inside.

"Say, Detective Suicide, you got somewhere to stay?"

"Well, as a matter of fact...no, I don't. I suppose I could just grab a cardboard box or something from the wino's down by the bus station..."

"You will do no such thing. There's a spare bed at O' Halloran's house that you're welcome to".


"Oh, shushhh, O Halloran. Don't mind him, Detective Suicide - stay the night in his place and I'll meet you all later at the station for a bollicking".

The Chief drives off without giving O Halloran a second chance to make his objections known.
He gets inside the drivers seat as Pip slips in the rear (ooo-er!).

O' Halloran beeps the horn.

"Well, what are ya waitin' for?", he shouts to Detective Suicide, "you want a bed for the night or not?"

She gets into the passenger seat and closes the door.

"I don't want you to feel under any obligation..."

O' Halloran ignores her and starts the engine, he's clearly angry as that large bulging vein in his forehead most certainly shows.

Ten silent minutes later they pull up by the sidewalk.
Pip unclasps his seatbelt.

"It's ok. You can let me off here. My mom will collect me on her way home from Bingo", Pip says as he gets out and waves to them as they pull away slowly (ooo-er!)

A few blocks later the car makes a turn up a steep hill and eases into the driveway of a grubby yard in a grubby neighbourhood.
Silently O' Halloran and Detective Suicide Jones both enter the house.
He disappears for a few moments only to reappear with several sheets and a pillow, which he tosses to Detective Suicide.

"Be careful of the left corner of that pillow. I drool. A lot".

She smiles in thanks.

On the wall are some photographs. She goes up close to one and has a look at it. it shows a large brunette woman with a warm friendly smile and a pair of massive breasts in a floral dress.

"Is this your mother?"

O' Halloran stands next to her.

"No. Thats my father"

"Your father?", Detective Suicide does a double take.

O' Halloran never flinches. In fact a tear comes to his right eye.

"He was a hell of a man. Served in Vietnam."

"Oh? Did he see action?"

"No. He was a waiter. He served in the Sum Yung Guy Hotel in Saigan. He left home when I was just a kid so that he could send money back to our poverty-stricken family in Bel Air. Apparently, in 7 years of service he never broke a single plate.... ".

"How did he...erm...come to look like this?". Detective Suicide tries to be diplomatic in her questioning about the sexuality issue.

O' Halloran takes the picture down from the wall and admires it lovingly.

"Agent Orange did this to him".

"The Chemicals?"

"No. I mean Agent Jason Orange. The Bastard."

Detective Suicide takes a seat on the comfy sofa as O' Halloran places the picture back on the wall and continues his story.

"It was the heady days of 1973. Daddy was hard at work, preparing for another hard day's service at the Hotel. A platoon of US marines had recently arrived in town to accompany a top secret covert CIA group - it was all over the newspapers.

"Amongst these CIA men was a guy named Agent Jason Orange. A real tough cookie. They said he had balls the size of watermelons and wore suits so sharp they could cut paper. A real slick asshole.

"So, in walks these CIA bozo's and my father comes up (ooo-er!) to take their order. Worst mistake of his life"

O' Halloran slumps down in a rocking chair and rests his head in his hands.

"My father had a speech impediment. After so many years in Vietnam he started to sound kinda like a Chinaman. The CIA guys taught my dear daddy was Viet Cong."

"Thats quite an assumption to make", Detective Suicide chimes in.

"Not for the CIA, it wasn't. Anyways, they marched daddy off to a top secret hideout - which you can find on Google Earth if you look it up - and tortured him. For days they pinched and tickled him and gave him Chinese burns."

"That sounds horrible". Detective Suicide gasps in horror.

O' Halloran stands up.

"And then they sent in the big kahuna - Agent Orange. Six foot nine inches tall in his stilts, he towered over daddy. He started some psychological torture. Took out a ukulele and began singing at the top of lungs a bunch of show tunes.

"By the time they realised daddy really was an American citizen it was too late - he was a shadow of his former self. When he returned to America he began acting erratically; began calling himself 'Mother'. Began dressing like a lady, curling his hair.

"By 1976 he was a fully fledged woman - vagina and all. Doctors said the show tunes got inside his head and made his penis turn inside out and his breasts enlarge...."

"How did your mother take it?", Detective Suicide says in an understanding tone.

"Up the ass. It's the way she liked it. My mother was actually a man. She had a sex change just before she married my daddy. They found me on a doorstep and adopted me"

O' Halloran finishes his tale and skulks off to his room, sobbing.
Detective Suicide even wipes a tear from her own eye. She has a new found understanding for O' Halloran. Whereas before she felt he was a wanking weirdo, now she feels sorry for him and his troubled upbringing.
It kinda even reminds her of her own trans-gender Norwegian parents.

She begins to make up her bed and then undresses.
From the room opposite, O' Halloran is also changing out of his sweaty work shirt and pants.
He catches a glimpse through the half-open door as Suicide removes her dynamite vest and then slowly unbuttons her tight silk blouse, her ripe youthful breasts accentuated in the dim light.

Its been a long time since he's had a real woman in the house.
Sure, he's had that bio-mechanical women that he bought from that illegal Japanese company, but not a living, breathing Earth female - and especially not one as alluring and sexy as this.

He does what comes instinctively and has a bit of a wank.

But just at that moment, Detective Suicide notices his presence. He falls backwards onto his bed and pretends to be asleep, hoping she didn't notice.
But she did.
And strangely it arouses her.

She slinks into his room.
O' Halloran clamps his eyes shut and snores loudly in a vain attempt at continuing his ruse.

"Detective O' Halloran?"

He opens his eyes and sees her standing naked above him.
He gulps loudly.

"I'm sorry...", he splutters, "..I...I...didn't mean to..."

He's lost for words.
Her body is firm and supple - like his pet donkey Bilbo Baggin's was. Damn he misses that beautiful ass.

"O' Halloran, its kind of lonely out there. Mind if I sleep with you tonight?"

O' Halloran gulps again - this time he almost swallows his false teeth.
It's like every schoolboy's dream - except its happening for real to a middle-aged, ugly, fat fuck of a policeman.

She pulls back the sheets, pausing to admire the view.

"Oh, Detective! That's quite an erection!", she coos.

O' Halloran notes she is talking about the matchstick model of the Eiffel Tower he strangely stores in his bed.

"That's something I've been building for a few years now...you know, they say the Eiffel Tower and the Statue of Liberty once dated each other..."

She climbs in and straddles him.

"Make love to me, O' Halloran. Remove these suicidal feelings that blight my life. Make me feel like a real woman again. I feel we have a deeper bond than initial first impressions may have suggested"


O' Halloran ponders the deeper questions posed by this conundrum:

Does he make sweet human love to Detective Suicide Jones, the attractive yet possibly mentally unstable police officer from another district; thereby setting in motion a chain of events that will certainly lead to a further spiralling downwards of his life as he subsequently tries to absorb the impact of dealing with the turmoil of their inevitable break-up?

Or does he have a wank instead, forgoing love so that he can simply put the whole thing behind him and instead focus on solving the important series of violent murders in his beloved city of PsychoTown?

Decisions, decisions…


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

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