Title:Pistols, Pythons, and Chairs
Type: Gen
Summary: Report writing was never fun, but why did Starsky had to make it extra difficult?
Category: Humor
Rating: PG
Date Added: April 15th 2011
Pistols, Pythons, and Chairs by Sam KW
Hutch busied himself with getting all the reports done of the cases they handled last month. Starsky was arranging all the documents and notes they had for each file. Dobey had been breathing down their necks for this for days now.
Hutch started typing the information Starsky retrieved from Dustin Pistull, witness of the Wagner Sweets candy store robbery. Starsky’s handwriting was, as usual, very hard to read. Hutch frowned at the name. He didn’t remember a Dustin Pistull.
"Starsky, you remember Dustin Pistull?" Hutch asked without looking up from his paperwork.
Starsky for once didn’t want to be bothered when he was trying so hard to get the documents in order. "Dusting what?"
"Pistull?"
"Why should I dust it? And why the hell do you want to know whether I dust it or not?"
Hutch raised his head from the pile of paperwork, frowning. "Are you okay?" he asked.
"Am I okay? Of course, I'm okay- I should be asking that question from you because you are the one asking weird questions about my pistol and how I keep it – dusting and all."
"Starsk, I wasn’t asking about your Colt Pistol. I was asking about Dustin Pistull."
"Are their pistols called Dustin?" asked Starsky.
Hutch rolled his eyes. "No, Starsky, there are no pistols called Dustin. I said P-I-S-T-U-L-L. The guy you interviewed during the Wagner robbery?"
"So, was he dusting somethin'?"
"No. Starsk, listen--"
"So if he was not dusting a pistol what was he dusting?"
"Starsky! Could you please stop what you are doing and concentrate for one minute?"
The tone of Hutch’s voice made Starsky look up from his piles of files. Hutch's face was all red.
"Hey, are you alright?" Starsky jumped off his chair and came near Hutch. He placed his palm on Hutch’s forehead to check his temperature. It felt hot.
"Man, you are coming down with something. I think you should go home."
"I am not coming down with anything- Just take a look at this." Hutch pushed the page of Starsky’s handwriting in front of him.
"What about it?"
"Who is this? – I can’t remember him."
"Jurden Durffel – don’t you remember? The guy who had colored half of his hair with that awful looking purple tinged--"
"Jurden Durffel? Is that what you have written?"
"Of course- What did you think I wrote?"
"What do you think I thought you wrote?"
"If I knew what you thought I wrote I wouldn’t be asking you what you thought I wrote now, huh?"
"Get out of here." Hutch glared at Starsky crumpling a paper into a ball.
Starsky ducked to escape from the incoming paper ball Hutch threw at him.
"There is no way to please you, Hutch," grumbled Starsky, returning back to his seat.
Both of them were quiet for a while until Hutch broke the silence.
"What was Black Python doing in the candy store?"
"Don’t ask me. I don’t know nothing about nothing," Starsky mumbled and went on with his work.
"Seriously, Starsk- What was Black--"
"I dunno anything about pythons, Hutch. Maybe he escaped from the zoo- may be the animal control guys dumped him at the candy store because they knew he was hungry. Maybe he was--" Starsky stopped in the middle of the sentence and turned towards Hutch. "What colors do they come in? Really?"
"You tell me."
"Why me? I have not studied Pythons... although…" Starsky smiled.
Hutch knew that smile very well.
"Oh, No. I don’t want to hear anything about pythons if it comes from that book of yours."
"What book? Do you see any book with me right now?" Starsky asked, showing his empty hands. "Did you know there were no pythons in the United States until a Burmese python was sighted at the Everglades? That's in Florida, by the way."
Hutch wanted to completely ignore Starsky, but he had to get the bottom of the Black Python he was seeing in Starsk’s handwriting. "How did a Burmese python came to Florida?" Hutch asked.
"How else? They were brought as pets, and then when they became large... you know pythons can get really REALLY large, so, some pythons escaped, some were released, and hey, did you just say there was a black python in the candy store? What was a black python doing in Bay City, in a Candy Store?"
Hutch groaned. "That’s the exact thing I was asking, Starsky." Hutch threw the paper in Starsky’s face "Here, you have written it right here."
"Starsky grabbed the paper and read it. "What are you talking about, Hutch? There's no black python here."
Hutch pointed towards Starsky’s scribbling’s. "Right here," he said furiously. Another one smart remark from Starsky and he would strangle his partner right then, right there.
"That’s Blake Payton, the guy who had stopped by the candy store to grab some candies for himself so that his wife wouldn’t know he was..." Starsky stopped seeing steam coming off Hutch’s ears.
Hutch grabbed the paper, walked back to his chair, and started working on the report.
Starsky couldn’t understand what was going on. Why was Hutch so mad? He had written everything in his best handwriting, and Hutch was still angry. Was it his fault that Hutch couldn’t read?
Hutch typed the report without much problem for sometime until, again, he came across something Starsky had written. He tried to make sense of it without asking Starsky because asking him always made it worse- always!
What the hell did Starsky mean by ‘willintrosclaim’ – Was it ‘willing to claim’? No... Was it ‘will intros claim?’ Hutch gave up trying to figure out what Starsky had jotted down.
"Starsk, what did you mean by ‘will intros claim’?"
"Claim what?" Starsky asked in his usual ‘annoying’ tone, and Hutch inhaled sharply.
"That is what I asked you, idiot," Hutch snapped back.
"Who is Intros anyway?" Starsky asked, ignoring the glares coming from the other end.
"How the hell would I know? You are the one who wrote it here. I swear to God, Starsk, if you do not start writing properly I am going to kill you." Hutch was clearly very very angry, again!
"Calm down now, will ya? Let me think for a while. Mmm... Intros, you said? Ya sure?"
"I am not sure what you have scribbled in here. It looks like-" Hutch studied the handwriting. "Yes, intros... or maybe intus… No- there is no such name... irwing? I guess it is irwing. Irwing claim? No, wait, it could be chair, ‘chair’? Or it could be with a capital ‘C.’"
"Capital C? now what is a Capital C doing there?"
"Because a chair with a capital C refers to a person as in a committee who--"
"Ahh... that Chair! Why didn’t you say so in the first place? You make things very complicated, Hutch."
Each and every word that escaped from Starsky contributed to Hutch’s rising blood pressure and temper, which he was trying very hard to keep in control.
"So what is this all about?" Hutch asked again because still he had not got the answer to his question. "Why have you written ‘will irwing chair’ ?"
"Have I written it with a capital C?" asked Starsky.
Hutch had to use all his willpower to stop grinding his teeth. "Since when did you ever write a capital letter when it was needed?" Hutch asked smugly.
That didn’t go very well with Starsky, who was also annoyed with all the interruptions. He turned fully towards Hutch.
"Okay, ‘Mr. I Know it All because I went to college,’ since you know all about my writing etiquette, why don’t you find it by yourself, huh? I am not walking over there again, reading stuff that you should be able to read by yourself in the first place. After all, I never have problems in reading what you have written."
"And why is that exactly?"
"You want to know why? Huh? Because I am smart! Because I KNOW what my partner writes. Because I know how you think, what you think, how you write, what you write, and why you write it," and with that Starsky turned back towards his work.
Simmons walked right then holding a paper with him. "Hey, Hutch. I got the documents you wrote up the other day, but what did you mean here by "Eating Burritos?" he asked placing a paper in front of Hutch.
This was too much for Hutch given what he had to deal with right then. "Why don’t you ask my partner about it, Simmons, because he claims that he ‘knows’ what I write," Hutch said seeing an opening to get Starsky.
"Piece of cake!" Starsky smiled. "I don’t even haf’ta to look at that paper if it was Hutch who wrote it. It is not ‘Eating Burritos’ Simmons, It is Ealaing Burilose, She is the lady that inherited all the money from her father’s business," Starsky explained with no difficulty.
Hutch had no clue how Starsky did that. He knew when he was beaten. He still had not solved the writing in front of him.
"Starsk, please, just tell me what this is, and I will not bother you again." Hutch brought the page to Starsky.
Starsky took one look at it and glared at Hutch in disbelief.
"Are you kidding me? Are you telling me you cannot read this? This is Willis Trosclaire. The guy who had stopped at the store to buy those special chocolate coated bunnies for his daughter’s birthday."
"Can you show me where the ‘capital’ letters are?" Hutch asked calmly.
"Do I have to do all the work around here? Now get lost! I need to work," Starsky answered crossly.
Hutch made his fists into two tight balls and returned back to his desk. One of these days he was going to strangle his partner and hide his body among the candy in that damn store where all these robberies had taken place.
Starsky still had no clue as to why Hutch was all worked up with one page of writing he had done. He wanted to know about black pythons and about someone dusting something earlier. He must have figured it out because he was busy typing up the report. The report? Wagner Robbery Report? Is he working on the WAGNER Robbery Report? Now why would he do that?
"Hey, Hutch?" Starsky wanted to put an end to Hutch’s misery.
"Just don’t say a thing until I get this done. Not a word." Hutch raised his forefinger, giving Starsky the ‘don’t you dare’ look.
"But, Hutch?" Starsky was genuinely distressed.
"I warned you, Starsk! Not-A-Word!"
Starsky stared at the figure bent towards the typewriter, shrugged, and continued with his work. Well, he tried!
Hutch finished the report in another ten minutes, and rubbed his palms together for been able to close one file.
He turned towards Starsky. "So, what was it that you wanted to say?"
"I don’t think you want to hear it now, Hutch. Especially if you just got done with your report."
Hutch didn’t like where this was going. "Why not?"
"You were asking about Blake Payton, right?"
"Yes."
"And Jurden Durfell?"
"YES"
"And Willis Trosclaire?"
"YES!!! Now could you please get to your point."
"Were you working on the Wagner robberies?"
"WHAT is it, Starsk?"
"That is what I wanted to tell you, Hutch." Starsky felt very uncomfortable, but continued. "I already finished that report and handed it over to Dobey yesterday. You have been looking at the ‘closed’ case files all the day."
Hutch closed his eyes and fists, gritting his teeth. When he opened his eyes, his partner was nowhere to be found, and he heard Simmons saying, "I think he is on his way to get a burrito."
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Type: Gen
Summary: Report writing was never fun, but why did Starsky had to make it extra difficult?
Category: Humor
Rating: PG
Date Added: April 15th 2011
Pistols, Pythons, and Chairs by Sam KW
Hutch busied himself with getting all the reports done of the cases they handled last month. Starsky was arranging all the documents and notes they had for each file. Dobey had been breathing down their necks for this for days now.
Hutch started typing the information Starsky retrieved from Dustin Pistull, witness of the Wagner Sweets candy store robbery. Starsky’s handwriting was, as usual, very hard to read. Hutch frowned at the name. He didn’t remember a Dustin Pistull.
"Starsky, you remember Dustin Pistull?" Hutch asked without looking up from his paperwork.
Starsky for once didn’t want to be bothered when he was trying so hard to get the documents in order. "Dusting what?"
"Pistull?"
"Why should I dust it? And why the hell do you want to know whether I dust it or not?"
Hutch raised his head from the pile of paperwork, frowning. "Are you okay?" he asked.
"Am I okay? Of course, I'm okay- I should be asking that question from you because you are the one asking weird questions about my pistol and how I keep it – dusting and all."
"Starsk, I wasn’t asking about your Colt Pistol. I was asking about Dustin Pistull."
"Are their pistols called Dustin?" asked Starsky.
Hutch rolled his eyes. "No, Starsky, there are no pistols called Dustin. I said P-I-S-T-U-L-L. The guy you interviewed during the Wagner robbery?"
"So, was he dusting somethin'?"
"No. Starsk, listen--"
"So if he was not dusting a pistol what was he dusting?"
"Starsky! Could you please stop what you are doing and concentrate for one minute?"
The tone of Hutch’s voice made Starsky look up from his piles of files. Hutch's face was all red.
"Hey, are you alright?" Starsky jumped off his chair and came near Hutch. He placed his palm on Hutch’s forehead to check his temperature. It felt hot.
"Man, you are coming down with something. I think you should go home."
"I am not coming down with anything- Just take a look at this." Hutch pushed the page of Starsky’s handwriting in front of him.
"What about it?"
"Who is this? – I can’t remember him."
"Jurden Durffel – don’t you remember? The guy who had colored half of his hair with that awful looking purple tinged--"
"Jurden Durffel? Is that what you have written?"
"Of course- What did you think I wrote?"
"What do you think I thought you wrote?"
"If I knew what you thought I wrote I wouldn’t be asking you what you thought I wrote now, huh?"
"Get out of here." Hutch glared at Starsky crumpling a paper into a ball.
Starsky ducked to escape from the incoming paper ball Hutch threw at him.
"There is no way to please you, Hutch," grumbled Starsky, returning back to his seat.
Both of them were quiet for a while until Hutch broke the silence.
"What was Black Python doing in the candy store?"
"Don’t ask me. I don’t know nothing about nothing," Starsky mumbled and went on with his work.
"Seriously, Starsk- What was Black--"
"I dunno anything about pythons, Hutch. Maybe he escaped from the zoo- may be the animal control guys dumped him at the candy store because they knew he was hungry. Maybe he was--" Starsky stopped in the middle of the sentence and turned towards Hutch. "What colors do they come in? Really?"
"You tell me."
"Why me? I have not studied Pythons... although…" Starsky smiled.
Hutch knew that smile very well.
"Oh, No. I don’t want to hear anything about pythons if it comes from that book of yours."
"What book? Do you see any book with me right now?" Starsky asked, showing his empty hands. "Did you know there were no pythons in the United States until a Burmese python was sighted at the Everglades? That's in Florida, by the way."
Hutch wanted to completely ignore Starsky, but he had to get the bottom of the Black Python he was seeing in Starsk’s handwriting. "How did a Burmese python came to Florida?" Hutch asked.
"How else? They were brought as pets, and then when they became large... you know pythons can get really REALLY large, so, some pythons escaped, some were released, and hey, did you just say there was a black python in the candy store? What was a black python doing in Bay City, in a Candy Store?"
Hutch groaned. "That’s the exact thing I was asking, Starsky." Hutch threw the paper in Starsky’s face "Here, you have written it right here."
"Starsky grabbed the paper and read it. "What are you talking about, Hutch? There's no black python here."
Hutch pointed towards Starsky’s scribbling’s. "Right here," he said furiously. Another one smart remark from Starsky and he would strangle his partner right then, right there.
"That’s Blake Payton, the guy who had stopped by the candy store to grab some candies for himself so that his wife wouldn’t know he was..." Starsky stopped seeing steam coming off Hutch’s ears.
Hutch grabbed the paper, walked back to his chair, and started working on the report.
Starsky couldn’t understand what was going on. Why was Hutch so mad? He had written everything in his best handwriting, and Hutch was still angry. Was it his fault that Hutch couldn’t read?
Hutch typed the report without much problem for sometime until, again, he came across something Starsky had written. He tried to make sense of it without asking Starsky because asking him always made it worse- always!
What the hell did Starsky mean by ‘willintrosclaim’ – Was it ‘willing to claim’? No... Was it ‘will intros claim?’ Hutch gave up trying to figure out what Starsky had jotted down.
"Starsk, what did you mean by ‘will intros claim’?"
"Claim what?" Starsky asked in his usual ‘annoying’ tone, and Hutch inhaled sharply.
"That is what I asked you, idiot," Hutch snapped back.
"Who is Intros anyway?" Starsky asked, ignoring the glares coming from the other end.
"How the hell would I know? You are the one who wrote it here. I swear to God, Starsk, if you do not start writing properly I am going to kill you." Hutch was clearly very very angry, again!
"Calm down now, will ya? Let me think for a while. Mmm... Intros, you said? Ya sure?"
"I am not sure what you have scribbled in here. It looks like-" Hutch studied the handwriting. "Yes, intros... or maybe intus… No- there is no such name... irwing? I guess it is irwing. Irwing claim? No, wait, it could be chair, ‘chair’? Or it could be with a capital ‘C.’"
"Capital C? now what is a Capital C doing there?"
"Because a chair with a capital C refers to a person as in a committee who--"
"Ahh... that Chair! Why didn’t you say so in the first place? You make things very complicated, Hutch."
Each and every word that escaped from Starsky contributed to Hutch’s rising blood pressure and temper, which he was trying very hard to keep in control.
"So what is this all about?" Hutch asked again because still he had not got the answer to his question. "Why have you written ‘will irwing chair’ ?"
"Have I written it with a capital C?" asked Starsky.
Hutch had to use all his willpower to stop grinding his teeth. "Since when did you ever write a capital letter when it was needed?" Hutch asked smugly.
That didn’t go very well with Starsky, who was also annoyed with all the interruptions. He turned fully towards Hutch.
"Okay, ‘Mr. I Know it All because I went to college,’ since you know all about my writing etiquette, why don’t you find it by yourself, huh? I am not walking over there again, reading stuff that you should be able to read by yourself in the first place. After all, I never have problems in reading what you have written."
"And why is that exactly?"
"You want to know why? Huh? Because I am smart! Because I KNOW what my partner writes. Because I know how you think, what you think, how you write, what you write, and why you write it," and with that Starsky turned back towards his work.
Simmons walked right then holding a paper with him. "Hey, Hutch. I got the documents you wrote up the other day, but what did you mean here by "Eating Burritos?" he asked placing a paper in front of Hutch.
This was too much for Hutch given what he had to deal with right then. "Why don’t you ask my partner about it, Simmons, because he claims that he ‘knows’ what I write," Hutch said seeing an opening to get Starsky.
"Piece of cake!" Starsky smiled. "I don’t even haf’ta to look at that paper if it was Hutch who wrote it. It is not ‘Eating Burritos’ Simmons, It is Ealaing Burilose, She is the lady that inherited all the money from her father’s business," Starsky explained with no difficulty.
Hutch had no clue how Starsky did that. He knew when he was beaten. He still had not solved the writing in front of him.
"Starsk, please, just tell me what this is, and I will not bother you again." Hutch brought the page to Starsky.
Starsky took one look at it and glared at Hutch in disbelief.
"Are you kidding me? Are you telling me you cannot read this? This is Willis Trosclaire. The guy who had stopped at the store to buy those special chocolate coated bunnies for his daughter’s birthday."
"Can you show me where the ‘capital’ letters are?" Hutch asked calmly.
"Do I have to do all the work around here? Now get lost! I need to work," Starsky answered crossly.
Hutch made his fists into two tight balls and returned back to his desk. One of these days he was going to strangle his partner and hide his body among the candy in that damn store where all these robberies had taken place.
Starsky still had no clue as to why Hutch was all worked up with one page of writing he had done. He wanted to know about black pythons and about someone dusting something earlier. He must have figured it out because he was busy typing up the report. The report? Wagner Robbery Report? Is he working on the WAGNER Robbery Report? Now why would he do that?
"Hey, Hutch?" Starsky wanted to put an end to Hutch’s misery.
"Just don’t say a thing until I get this done. Not a word." Hutch raised his forefinger, giving Starsky the ‘don’t you dare’ look.
"But, Hutch?" Starsky was genuinely distressed.
"I warned you, Starsk! Not-A-Word!"
Starsky stared at the figure bent towards the typewriter, shrugged, and continued with his work. Well, he tried!
Hutch finished the report in another ten minutes, and rubbed his palms together for been able to close one file.
He turned towards Starsky. "So, what was it that you wanted to say?"
"I don’t think you want to hear it now, Hutch. Especially if you just got done with your report."
Hutch didn’t like where this was going. "Why not?"
"You were asking about Blake Payton, right?"
"Yes."
"And Jurden Durfell?"
"YES"
"And Willis Trosclaire?"
"YES!!! Now could you please get to your point."
"Were you working on the Wagner robberies?"
"WHAT is it, Starsk?"
"That is what I wanted to tell you, Hutch." Starsky felt very uncomfortable, but continued. "I already finished that report and handed it over to Dobey yesterday. You have been looking at the ‘closed’ case files all the day."
Hutch closed his eyes and fists, gritting his teeth. When he opened his eyes, his partner was nowhere to be found, and he heard Simmons saying, "I think he is on his way to get a burrito."
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