PREVIOUSLY ON POP CULTURE MYSTERIES…
AND NOW THE POP CULTURE MYSTERIES CONTINUE…
“A question for you, my guests,” Informant Zero said. “What is the greediest animal in the world?”
I wasn’t amused.
“I’m not one for riddles, Jack.”
“Are you, Ms. Donnelly?”
“I’d wager it’s man.”
More smoke blew out of the shadowy orifice.
“And you’d be correct. As the Native Americans have said, man has a hole in his heart, a deep hunger that can never be filled.”
I checked my pocket watch. This guy was going to go on and on.
“Los Angeles has the single largest collection of celebrities in the world,” Informant Zero said. “We have men and women who are magnificent to look at, in peak physical condition, and they get paid obscene amounts of money to play make believe. I’ll admit that acting takes skill and training. However, let’s be honest. They’re not digging ditches, or breaking a sweat, or worried about bills like the average citizen is.”
“Tell us something we don’t know,” I said.
“One would think that an individual who is blessed enough to sniff the rarified air of fame and fortune would be content, but as you witnessed on your way to me, that is not the case. No matter how much man obtains, he always, without fail, wants more. Though the general assumption is that celebrities must be happy because they live lifestyles that are far above the norm, the truth is that most famous people are woefully unhappy.”
“I’ve seen more than a few folks get to the top of the world only to fall off it,” I said. “I’m one of them.”
“Yes, Jersey Jabber,” Informant Zero said, a mocking note to my failed boxing career, which came to an end when I took a dive.
This guy knew everything about me. Makes sense, since as he mentioned, he was one of Bookshelf Q. Battler’s 3.5 readers.
“Sometimes the hunger that drives man can be good, such as when Mozart composes a symphony or Picasso paints a canvas. Both men made their art in search of society’s approval, but they also gave the world the gift of their talent as well.”
I sat back in my chair, locked my fingers behind my head and yawned.
“More often, the hunger causes man to implode, such as when you turn on the news to learn about the latest actor or musician to become wrapped up in a scandal. That hunger is why being a famous actress wasn’t enough for Lindsey Lohan. It’s why she experienced her infamous battles with drugs and alcohol. Even Bill Clinton, the former president, engaged in transgressions with an intern. Even the highest office in the free world couldn’t satiate him.”
“Get outta’ town,” I said. “There was a president who got some action on the side? Why don’t you tell me these things, Ms. Donnelly?”
“It was two presidents ago, Mr. Hatcher. I’ll tell you about it later.”
Informant Zero switched gears.
“What is the most valuable form of currency?”
Delilah and I looked at each other. We had nothing.
“Information,” Informant Zero said. “In today’s world, information is traded, bought and sold like commodities on the open market at a breakneck pace. Our celebrities unsatisfiable hunger to fill their bottomless hearts causes them to engage in all manner of transgressions.”
“Like that fella in the cowboy hat who has short people cover him in cottage cheese?”
“Like him. And that is where I come in. My vast network of spies feed me a never ending flow of information of what’s happening in this town at all times. More often than not, I know something is going to happen even before it happens.”
“Gotta say then, Jack, its odd that the group of famous perverts upstairs would allow you to set up shop here.”
“On the contrary, Mr. Hatcher. It is I who allow them to set up shop here. This is my establishment.”
“You’ve lost me.”
“The actions you saw upstairs are tame compared to what truly goes on behind closed doors in the City of Angels. Mere foolishness and nothing at all I’m concerned about,” Informant Zero said. “There are actions that certain famous individuals who shall remain nameless are engaged in that, if you were to hear about them, you’d never watch a movie or listen to a song ever again.”
“Worse than the cottage cheese thing?” I asked.
“A million times worse,” Informant Zero said. “And that’s where I come in. For a price, I can bury a brewing scandal and keep it away from the public. I can bury a celebrity’s bad information by trading on information I’ve stockpiled about the misdeeds of various politicians, government officials, journalists, and business executives.”
“Blackmail for a clean sweep?” I asked.
“Indeed.”
I started to get up.
“Ms. Donnelly I don’t think we want to be involved with this sort of character.”
“Before you make up your mind,” Informant Zero said. “Know that I have accomplished more good than anyone else could have with such an endeavor. “I have never used my powers to cover up illegal activity, only actions that would provide great embarrassment and humiliation for the perpetrator.”
“I repeat, ‘worse than the cottage cheese thing?'”
“Name redacted’s fondness of cottage cheese thing has been widely reported in the trades and gossip rags, Mr. Hatcher. The public doesn’t care one iota. His quote per film is higher than ever. The world has a higher level of tolerance for depravity than it did in your day. The actions engaged in upstairs, though questionable, would barely register a blip on the public’s radar compared with the inappropriateness I’ve helped the powerful hide.”
“So you run a one stop shop for entitled assbags,” I said. “They come here, they lather themselves up in dairy products, get their jollies off, and if they need to, come ask you to take the heat off of them for something they did that’s even WORSE than the freakshow going on upstairs?”
“That’s it in a nutshell,” Informant Zero said. “However, I also use the information I obtain for good. I have provided law enforcement agencies with information that has cracked troublesome cases and put bad people away. I have worked with the press to expose charlatans, frauds, and others who prey on the weakest among us. But alas, I cannot obtain and trade information that will help the world without the profits from helping celebrity transgressions disappear.”
“Mr. Zero,” Delilah said. “The question yet to be addressed is how can you be of service to Mr. Battler?”
Bookshelf Battle 