PREVIOUSLY ON POP CULTURE MYSTERIES…
AND NOW THE POP CULTURE MYSTERIES CONTINUE…
In a cramped study room, we sat across a table from one another, sizing each other up, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Delilah was a gorgeous specimen of a lady, everything perfect, not a single hair out of place. My inner animal wanted to gobble her up, but we weren’t there for hanky panky.
We were there to bargain.
She clacked open her briefcase and handed me a dossier. Inside?
Printouts from the Bookshelf Battle Blog.
“Your reports have pleased Mr. Battler. Sometimes his readership spikes to a grand total of 17.5 readers when there’s a Pop Culture Mysteries post.”
“Good for him,” I replied. “He might as well start packing his bags for LaLa Land. He can have it.”
“Mr. Battler’s readers have enjoyed your files to the point where they have mysteries of their own.”
“As much as I’d like to stare at your lovely face all day, Ms. Donnelly, I’ve got a beep boop machine class to get back to, so let’s grab a pair of scissors and cut to the chase, shall we?”
“Very well. Three readers have stepped forward with entertainment related questions that deserve an answer and as Mr. Battler’s resident detective, that task falls on your shoulders.”
“Nothing,” Delilah said. “You’ve already agreed to do it gratis.”
The conniving counselor handed me the contract I signed the night I first met her, as well as a magnifying glass. I scrutinized the document and low and behold, she wasn’t just whistling dixie:
Mr. Hatcher agrees to solve any Pop Culture Mysteries posed to him by Mr. Battler’s 3.5 readers.
Take a note. When you’re dealing with a foxy broad, always check the fine print.
“What in the name of J. Edgar Hoover’s evening gown are you trying to pull here, sister?!”
I took another peak through the magnifying glass.
“What’s this about selling my kidneys?!”
Delilah snatched the paper back.
“Best we focus on the matter at hand, Mr. Hatcher. You should be delighted. Mr. Battler’s renewing your tales for a second season.”
“I don’t care about any of that, doll. I just want to go home. Your client is a real snake in the grass for holding out on me.”
“Our client, Mr. Hatcher. Now then, Mr. Battler does not expect a thorough investigation for these questions. He has simply asked me to relay his 3.5 inquiries and to obtain your reaction. Certainly, these shorter mysteries will be no match for a investigator of your skill.”
I doubt she meant it, if there was any way to win over the shattered pieces of my heart, a compliment from a good looking lady was it.
I’m sure she knew that and used it to her advantage.
DELILAH: Mr. Hatcher, Michael Gunter of “Michael Gunter’s Tales of Today and Yesterday” contacted Mr. Battler with this concern:
Here’s one for ya, Hatcher!
The mark’s name is Nedry. Dennis Nedry. He ticked off the wrong people (don’t mess with mega-corporations) and got eaten by a dinosaur. But that’s not your problem. What we want to know is why the idiot shut down ALL the security systems. If he programmed the whole system, why didn’t he just set it up so he could shut down specific systems, instead of letting every dinosaur in the park loose? I’d make a joke about buggy code, but he got eaten, didn’t he? Joke practically wrote itself.
I lit up my cigar and had a puff. The carcinogens danced to and fro in my lungs as I mulled over my answer.
“Gunter,” I said. “Another one of these Mickey Spillane types with a blog-a-ma-call-it?”
“Indeed,” Delilah said. “I’ve heard he can even be followed on twitter @GunterWriting.”
I turned away and exhaled my exhaust. I’d no sooner coat Ms. Donnelly’s visage with fumes than I would the Mona Lisa.
“I’m the last cat you want to be asking questions about beep boop machines,” I said. “After all, I am a student in an introductory computer course taught by an old broad who can beep boop laps around me. Why was this Nedry character on the lam?”
“Corporate espionage,” Ms. Donnelly answered. “Mr. Nedry was secretly paid for a rival company that wanted Jurassic Park’s dinosaur genetic material.”
“Yeesh,” I said. “The stuff that passes for cinema now. Well, like I said, computers go over my head higher than a Boeing, but I’ve caught a lot of crooks and I’d wager Nedry did it just to screw with the employer he was already screwing. Maybe he thought it’d be harder to track him down if his co-workers were busy wrangling dinosaurs. Or, and I know this is probably an unsatisfactory answer, but maybe he just did it because it wouldn’t have been much of a flick if all the dinosaurs remained in their cages in a safe and secure manner.”
“An astute answer,” Delilah said. “I shall have Mr. Battler contact Mr. Gunter with the details shortly.”
“Who else wants a piece of the Jersey Jabber?”
Do you have a Pop Culture Mystery? Drop a dime! Tweet your entertainment questions to @bookshelfbattle or leave them in the comments below.
Copyright (c) 2015 Bookshelf Q. Battler. All Rights Reserved.
Image courtesy of a shutterstock.com license.