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We hope you are enjoying tonight's program, DURCHEINANDER, the story of a beautiful blonde and her ex-husband, the disbarred attorney.
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DURCHEINANDER / Chapter Ten / TOMMY'S REPLACEMENT

DURCHEINANDER

 

THE HOMAGE TO SIR ALFRED HITCHCOCK

Chapter Ten
TOMMY'S REPLACEMENT / July 26, 2013
  Wendell Johnson locked the front door of Melanie's Burger Bistro and went to the rooftop to see if there was anything Melanie wanted from the kitchen before he retired. He found Melanie and company surrounded by empty wine bottles and open bags of potting soil. Thelma, Melanie and their gentleman friend had dirt all over their hands, faces and clothes.
  "Good evening, Thelma and Louise.  Who, pray tell is the handsome gallant you've been hogging all evening."  Wendell winked at Mitchell Doyle.
  "This is Mr. Doyle. He owns the building.  Thelma replied.
  "Even better,"  Wendell showed more interest.
  "Mr. Doyle, this is Mr. Wendell Johnson, our new cook."  Thelma properly introduced them.
  "You know, Mr. Doyle, I'm the one who make the crickets go away.  I'm an exceptional cook and..." Wendell began.
  "Save it.  He's taken, "  Thelma laughed.  "You're late.  Louise nabbed him."  Thelma stepped back and tripped over a bag of potting soil.  She landed on her rear end.  "Give me a hand, Louise.  I've fallen and I can't get up."
  "You two simply must stop calling me Louise!  The new customers are calling me Louise!"  Melanie insisted.
  "Well, I'm just happy to see you all in good spirits, and I do mean 'spirits' in the alcoholic sense of the word.  What a mess!  What on earth is going on up here?"  Wendell surveyed the scene.
  "We're just testing rose wines and planting the next crop of tomato vines."  Mitch made no excuses.
  "Can I get you people anything from the kitchen before I turn in?  Another crate of wine, perhaps?"  Wendell offered.
  "Why yes, Wendell.  Thank you.  Please bring us that last bag of Bernard's Bone Meal from the pantry.  We had a bag but Thelma seems to've misplaced it.  I do hope she didn't place it on the ledge and allow it to fall on some poor tourist's head.  Bad for business."  Melanie replied.
  "It prevents blossom end rot, you know,"  Thelma added.
  "What?  Getting hit on the head or the fertilizer?"  Mitch asked.
  Melanie laughed so hard she snorted.  She was trying to help Thelma to get up but kept losing her grip and dropping her.
  "You SNORTED!  Miss Prim Proper snorted!  Did you fellas hear that?!"  Thelma's eyes were watering.
  "Well, we don't want blossom end rot, do we?"  Wendell shook his head and went to get the fertilizer.  He returned too soon with a ghastly pale complexion.
  "There's a mad man ripping the kitchen apart!"  Wendell said in a strained whisper.
  "Call the police!"  Thelma scrambled to her feet.  "Our phones are in the office downstairs!"
  "So is mine!"  Wendell cringed.
  Suddenly they heard a phone ring.
  "O Thank God!"  Thelma declared.  "A customer probably forgot their phone.  Thank God!  Find it!"
  "It's coming from over there!"  Mitch pointed.  They all ran towards the ringing phone.
  "It's coming from inside that bag of bone meal."  Melanie said with a feeling of horror growing stronger each second.
  "Just rip it open! Give it to me!"  Wendell dusted off the phone off and answered it.
  "Hello,"  Wendell said in a nice, polite manner, as if nothing was wrong.
  "Jesus!  Wendell!  Have you lost your mind!?  Hang up and call the police!"  Mitch growled.
  Wendell pulled away as if he was making a private call.
  "Honey,  I sound different because I'm not Tommy.  Tommy isn't here right now.  Listen, whoever you are, I need to hang up now because I have an important call."  Wendell explained to the stranger who said she was calling from Baker and wanted to know why Tommy never showed up.
  "The fire escape!"  Thelma suggested.
  "No! Thelma! No!"  Wendell put his hand over the mouth piece.  "He's down there waiting for us!"  He warned and then went back to his call.
  "Your name is Josephine? OK, Miss Josephine, I'm going to have to be rude and put you on hold.  I can't imagine why he paid for a babysitter for Benjamine and then didn't show up.  We'll talk about it in a minute."  Wendell put Josephine on hold and dialed 911.  "It's ringing.  It's ringing."
  "Who the hell are you talking to?"  Mitch, Thelma and Melanie surrounded Wendell.
  "I don't know!  Some lady named Josephine with a kid named Ben who wants to talk to somebody named Tommy.  I put her on hold.  I couldn't hang up on her.  She sounds so distressed!"  Wendell said while the phone was ringing on the other end.  "Still ringing.  Still ringing."
  "Melanie, isn't Tommy Barton the name of the cook I replaced?"  Wendell asked.  "Still ringing. Still ringing."
  Melanie clutched her pearl necklace so tightly it broke. She fainted and landed with a loud thud.
  Wendell completely lost it.  He started screaming and couldn't stop.
  Mitch grabbed the phone and talked to the police.  
  Thelma pointed towards the ocean.
  "Wendell!  Wendell! Snap out of it!  Is that the man you saw in the kitchen?"  Thelma pointed to a man running down the beach.
  "I hope so!"  Wendell declared as he strugged to regain his cool.
  Suddenly, out of nowhere, a chorus of crickets began to chirp loudly.
  "I spoke too soon.  About the crickets."  Wendell said in a daze.
  Mitch put his jacket over Melanie and told the police they needed an ambulance. 
  "She's in shock. Was it what Wendell asked or did she get a closer look at that crazy man before we did?  And how did Tommy Barton's phone get into a sealed sack of bone meal?" Thelma asked
 

 

~ TO BE CONTINUED ~

 
 
 
 

DAME J. E. MARSHALL PRODUCTIONS PRESENTS: DURCHEINANDER

Dame J. E. Marshall Productions Presents: DURCHEINANDER
The Homage To Sir Alfred Hitchcock 

Chapter One
THE GRAND REOPENING / July 3, 2013
 
It was the summer the crickets took over Hermosa Beach, California.  The rumor was that the constant twittering of those crickets drove some people mad and made others completely disappear.
On the afternoon before the grand July 4th reopening of the best burger bistro on the strand, the sun was making the sea sparkle while the old sign that read: "BRENNER'S BURGERS" was being taken down.  The building's owner, Mr. Mitchell Doyle, watched as a delicate new neon sign was being prepped to take its place.
Mr. Doyle wore a lighter, summer version of the charcoal grey pen striped suit that had become his trademark. He spotted Thelma Reynolds heading down the strand towards him at a very fast clip, considering that she was sixty four years old.
"Afternoon, Miss Reynolds.  Runnin' from the law?"  Mitchell Doyle tipped his hat.
"Was I going all that fast?"  The years of smoking, hard liqour and shouting at cooks had given Thelma a bit of a frog voice.
"Any faster and I'd need a skateboard to keep up with you." Doyle teased.
"I was just trying to beat you to the door and lock you out before you could raise the rent again."  Thelma quipped.
Mr. Doyle held the door open for Thelma and followed her into the bistro.  The former Mrs. Brenner was seated at the bar with her back to them. She was lost in her paper work.
"Love what you've done with the place, Miss Hayworth."  Mitchell Doyle announced.
"Oh!" Melanie Hayworth spun the barstool around so fast that she knocked over her iced tea.
"I'll get a towel!" Thelma rushed behind the counter.
"I didn't hear you come in."  Melanie fingered her pearl necklace as she did when she was nervous.
"I'm very sorry."  Mitchell was a bit startled as well.  He had seen Melanie many times before and yet her beauty still overwhelmed him.  Her slender legs dangled from the barstool.  She had kicked off her pumps and was slipping back into them.  She wore a white silk blouse and a sea green jacket and skirt.  One strand of blonde hair had escaped her otherwise perfect French twist and was playing hard to catch in the afternoon sea breeze.
"There." Thelma handed the paperwork to Melanie.  "I've rescued your papers."  Thelma finished drying the bar.
"Allow me to buy you ladies a drink. It's the least I could do."  Mitchell offered.
"I was having some sun tea.  Do join us for a glass."  Melanie offered.
"I will, but I insist on buying."  Mitchell was still uncomfortable.
Thelma brought out a tray ofglasses filled with ice and a pitcher of tea with thin lemon slices floating in it.
"I hope you like lemon, Mr. Doyle."  Thelma said.
"Yes." Mitchell answered.  He gave Thelma a twenty. "Keep the change."
"You bet." Thelma headed towards the cash register.
"Thelma, no..."  Melanie started.
Thelma opened the cash register and screamed.
"Thelma! What is it?!"  Melanie got up to see what was the matter.  Mitchell followed suit.
"Crickets!" Thelma let out a deep sigh. "Pardon me while I fish out the one that jumped between my bosoms."
"How on earth did they get inside the register?"  Melanie asked.
"I hope you ladies are not planning to tell me the crickets ate the rent."  Mitchell suddenly felt relaxed enough to joke again.  Thelma's scream had broken the ice.
"No, but I am going to Google to see what they eat and if they do eat cash, we'll be serving chocolate covered cricket topping on the tiramisu this summer."  Thelma announced. 
Thelma took the cricket from her bra and before she threw it out the door she told it, "I haven't been touched like that in years. Shame on you."
"Where did they come from?" Melanie asked.
"No one knows.  It's just Hermosa Beach. There aren't any in Manhattan or Redondo Beach."  Mitchell commented.
"Must be some sort of cricket convention. I'm going to the kitchen to see if the crickets have eaten our new cook."  Thelma said as she left the room.
"By the way, Mr. Doyle, what brings you to the land of the crickets today?"  Melanie asked with a twinkle of mischief in her bright blue eyes.
"Well, I was just passing through and I stopped by to see if that ex-husband of yours had burned the place down yet."  Mitchell answered.
"I think you came here to see me."  Melanie took a sip of tea.
"What a thing to say!  You may be beautiful, sophisticated, humorous and intelligent, but you can't deny you have horrible taste in men."
"Speak of the devil!  That's Scott Brenner's drunken silhoutte on the beach. I'd recognize Scottie's gait from any distance!"  Melanie grew serious and covered her pearl necklace with her hand.
 
 

~ To Be Continued ~