Chronicles of Ghutterspunk

Chapter 1

Two brown circles and a pony tail.

A phone was vibrating in pocket of a small man by the name of basil.

He looked at the screen and his heart sank he only had calls of this number for one reason.

"He-he hello" he timidly answered

And short silence followed before a reply.

"You must go to smeach mere grotto" a deep camp voice whispered down the phone. " their has been another occurance, a very interesting one that you must go and find out about. I have information to believe that the Silent Duck has attacked again Basil.

"Really" Basil's squeaky stuttery voice replied

"Yes Basil, you are the only who can get to bottom of these attacks so you must go be there before anyone else gets there."

"Where do I have to go?" the weaker of the voice replied" is it far, what do I need to bring?"

"Just bring your usual equipment, remember no cameras. Go down to smeachmere grotto and go to old man Keith the fishmongers house. On Goggins road"

"Is it bad parsley?"

The line went dead.

Basil put his shirt on, and his shiny polished detective badge on the from his trouser pocket and attached it to the outside of top pocket.

"Time to investigate" he thought and quickly left the apartment checking the door was looked three times before he walked down the stairs out of the building.

Twas and dark and musky evening. The breeze caressed the leaves with a sinister fondle making them writhe with anxious whispers. A short man was walking slowly in the darkness with a ridiculous bobble. His knitted hat cloaked his extra large Large forehead from the uncomfortable air. His steps were guided by a faint moonlit radiance that was inviting him toward a large town house. The door was slightly ajar.

Basil knew he needed to focus before he entered, He had been sent here because of his trojan knowledge,so he did not want to miss a thing. There was enough moonlight to offer him, sight through the hallway, the radio was on quietly. It sounded like Vivaldi four seasons summer. He stepped slowly In the next room the kitchen, the light was on above the stove. It cast a shadow across the room of the swinging lampshade. In kitchen was spacious and in the middle of the room was a repulsive sight. Basil gasped.

He knew that was the area where he should investigate. A crumpled naked old mans body all folded Up like cheap garden sun recliner.

He legs were bent over in the most unnatural way over his head like broken wooden puppet toy. His scrot was stretched to over a foot long and his balls were compressed and covered in green tinged brown poo. Basil lent down to smell them. He recognised from the smell from his own poos, that the poor fella must of eaten saag paneer it had those same sickly sweet notes and lock-tite consistency. his extremely saggy balls had wrapped over his body and sat ominously on his back like a dainty little pony tale . Basil scanned his face from mouth up, He had a the vacant grin like a little Pinocchio man. His nose was broken and blood crusted down sides of his face to his ears like a scummy red and black moustache. His eyes were open and staring downwards. On his fore head he notice a pair of brown circles directly in the middle, they had curly black hairs all over them. The circles were tinged with red and green.

Basil got his pencil case from his bag and opened it shuffled hurriedly until his found his ruler He measure the space the circles took up on his forehead. Then with same ruler he measured width of his dirty stinking scrotum. Twas the same, interesting he thought. He also smelt the marks on his forehead they also had the same sickly saag paneer notes. How could this be. An idea flashed to Basil's brain he lent slowly down to dead mans bum hole and stuck the end of his little finger into his red purple sphincter.

He slowly moved his finger up to his nose, trembling. The same smell as the balls and forehead.

His balls must of been into his bum hole and traveled up to his forehead. Basil quickly stood up and stare in nothing his mind focused and thinking intently. A vision popped into his head this old man had his scrott up his arse that would explained why his balls were compressed and smelt like shit. The saag paneer inside him created large amounts of methane gas when this reached correct high pressure level then that would of given them the velocity they needed to be propelled to his forehead stretching his sack and bending his back over in process. The balls hit his head and due to their momentum killed him on impact and left brown circles on his forehead with pubes from his balls on them. Why did he also have a broken nose basil thought, maybe the balls rebounded and bounced around like rubber knockers hitting him multiple times and eventually laying to rest on his back in that the pony tale fashion. So basil knew how the poor fella had died but he didn't know why he died.

He got his mobile phone out from his pocket and rang back his deputy Parsley Scrotesfinger.

"Parsley, the fella has scrot roasted himself, and it's gone horrible wrong"

"Is it bad" Parsley replied, he was breathing heavily " Is their blood, did you touch him, did you wear gloves"

No I didn't wear gloves I forgot

"Good" their was a rhythmic shuffling coming from down the phone and the heavy breathing increased". Basil I want you to tell me exactly what you think happened there. Tell me every last detail

He recounted his vision to Parsley. The odd rhythmic shuffling got heavier, as he reach the climax of the story the breathing turned to groaning.

"Gooood gooood, goooood your a good detective basil, a good detective." parsley drawled his voice getting louder and more drawn out " tell me the bit a how you smelt his balls again. Tell me again how he farted his dirty saggy scrot out, I need to take notes, I must take notes about this"

Basil repeated the section of account requested down to the phone to parsley

The shuffling increased in frequency and the groaning got louder.

When basil got to the bit about his dainty little pony tale scrot parsley groans turned to screams

Ah yes ahhhhhh yes. Pony tale scrot a dainty little pony tail scrot ahhhhhh yes.

The shuffling stopped abruptly and the heavy breathing began again.

"You are a ruddy good detective Basil Ghutterspunk. A ruddy good detective."

"Am I parsley " Basil said excitedly "can I get more stars on my badge now, can I be promoted, have I been good"

"Yes basil you can get 2 more stars on your badge but no promotion. one more thing remember to get a good little sketch of that poor old mans crumpled up body for the records it's important"

"But I want a promotion basil" said in excited manner

"Ok you can get 3 stars on your badge but only if you do a nice drawing of the old mans dainty pony tale scrott, I need good detail on those balls other wise I won't be able to catch that bad bad murderer that did this to our poor Keith. I need good pictures if we have a chance at stopping the Silent Duck murders"

There was a pause.

"Parsley?" basil said

"Yes my little detective" parsley replied.

" I don't won't to keep doing this"

"Oh but you must. You are a Super Detective agent and this is your job Basil. Remember when you signed up to the Super detective agency you signed up for life"

"But my finger smells like sticky saag paneer shit and this place is creepy"

"You are a detective and that is part of your job if you carry on your whining I will never give a promotion"

"But......"

"No buts, Basil draw the body, get a good sample of that poo and get the hell out of there before the police turn up. You cannot trust them to do the job properly. You are the only one who can get to the bottom of this."

The line went dead, parsley had hung up

Basil took his back pack off. Opened it and took out his a2 sketch pad and took out his 9b and 4b sharpened graphite pencils and began to draw the the dead mans body, putting extra special detail into the poor fellas pony tale scrot and the brown pube stained circles on the old mans forehead . A tear dripped slowly from Basil's left eye.

"I'll get that promotion soon" Basil thought to cheer himself up. Then reached in his bag for the rest of his art materials. Putting the poo sample at the bottom of his bag.

Meanwhile Parsley Scroatsfinger tossed aside a wet blob of tissues and walked to his kitchen picked up a dirty sauce pan off the hob and scooped out the remaining saag paneer from it put then into a clear plastic Tupperware box and put a dark green lid on it. He then walked to the fridge and put it next to his pickled buzzard loins and other homemade curries." I have to make my five bean chilli recipe again" he thought, then sat back onto his pink leather designer sofa. he put on Americas Next top model with a cup of Darjeeling and ramekin of honey roasted nipples. He looked back down at his note pad and re-read the words on it with a twisted smile.

Get Your saggy scrotty,

Then put it in your botty.

Then Fart your balls out

Stretched swinging sack,

Smash, head crack, now just black

Knocked out. Then dead

With two smelly circles on your forehead.

Double brown marks tainted with red.

"Oh these Trojan chronicles" he thought and began writing more poetry giggling to himself "maybe I'll put something to do with frozen turds in this one" he thought. then his pen went back to its furious writing.

Chapter 2

Detective Altoin

Police tape was circling old man Keith's house with 3 police cars outside , another unmarked police vehicle, a shiny new black BMW was just pulling up outside the house. A tall man exited the vehicle, he wore an long navy jacket and shiny leather shoes, so shiny one could see their reflection in them. His bowler hat was worn low and hid the faint sunlight from his eyes and cast a shadow down his face. He walked up to the house and paused to look up to the property for a fews seconds before walking under the tape and straight past the police guard at the door. He said nothing and made eye contact with no-one.

He entered the kitchen, which was busy with forensic officers milling around taking samples and carefully putting them into plastic bags. One officer a red headed woman in he mid thirties was lent down next the dead body in centre of the room.

The man walked over and greeted her, his deep voice rang in her ears.

"Detective altoin" he said without realising how loud his voice was. The remarked "Jesus what the bloody hell happened here"

He looked down over at the crumpled old mans body "What do you know so far altoin"

She paused and looked at the superintendent directly in the eyes. She had a stern serious look but had and warm face. She looked down to her note pad then Her soft well spoken voice replied

"So far we have ascertained that the body is that of Keith bunderswelt , a local fishmonger in his late 60s from smeachmere grotto. We believe he has undergone heavy spinal fractures in his lower back due to his own pelvic momentum. Pubic hairs have been found around his anus and forehead and match up to his own hairs on his scrotum. fecal matter samples have also been found in these three areas and also match up to each other. They contain large amounts of spinach, cumin and an Indian cheese known as paneer,

"What the hell is that" the superintendent interrupted

It's a cheese which is made by curdling milk with lemon juice.....Any way " she looked back at her notepad "His scrotum has undergone an extreme extension and is now 29 centimetres long.

His testes have suffered an impact and have been compressed and damaged. There is no signs of forced entry on the property and we believe the man was by himself when he died. So far we have is little to believe that this was a murder but we are treating the case as suspicious. This could well have been a bizarre form of anal masterbation ritual gone horribly wrong.

One such ritual popularised on Internet pornography is known as scrot-roasting and involves putting ones testes into someone's rectum, be their own or someone else's. The pressure of the sphincter on the testicles causes intense male ejaculation, and can quite literally empty the testicles of semen. in this case we believe the victim tried the act of "scrot roasting" unattended. The fecal matter samples show In the spinach and cheese curry he ate caused his digestive system to produce large amounts of methane. But the curry was not properly digested and still contained sugars that not broken down by enzymes in his small intestine. These sugars made the fecal matter highly viscus and caused his testicles to stick to the inner walls of the colon in the large intestine. when methane pressure reached a critical point his anus expelled his testicles and propelled them, breaking his lower Back and hitting his forehead before eventually resting on his lower back. It all seems to makes sense, but I just found some interesting samples of shavings of graphite used in sketching pencils and small blob of wet acrylic on the other side of room. From our background analysis on Keith bunderswelt we have no evidence that he was interested in sketching or painting at all.

"Any thing else that's actually important " he interrupted

"No" detective Altoin said in quiet embarrassed voice

"It's looks like this old man is twisted weirdo, who the fuck puts there ruddy bollocks up their arse like this" the superintendent said "Get this place dusted for finger prints and I'll get the clean up team to sort this abomination out . No point in wasting any more police time on nutters like this."

Janet Altoin had been working for the for department of Murderology, Sinister crimes and new age cannibalism for the west beatlesstry district police department for ten years now. She left old man Keith's house on Goggins and returned back to the station, it was gray and raining and her car slowly moved in heavy traffic. She returned to her small dusty dimly lit office on the forth floor of the west beatlesstry police station. Her notes were sprawled across the desk in a order only she could comprehend. Something about Keith Bunderwelt's death was suspicious to her. Why was there fresh samples of paint and graphite shavings across the room from the folded up body. She looked at photos of the inside fridge. No cheese, or butter or dairy apart from a cartoon of lacto free milk. He must have been lactose intolerant. So what was he doing eating curry with so much cheese in it. There was no other ingredients for making curries on the shelves of his apartment either and no boxes to indicate he had brought the curry home. He must have eaten it out. And the paint samples were was still wet and must of been dropped at the same time as the old man died or after. Had he or someone else been trying to paint something at the same time as scrot-roasting incident occurred, he couldn't of been alone. And why in the kitchen surely a bizarre masterbation technique like this would be easier to clean up in the bathroom.

She pondered her notes with the end of ball point pen in her mouth, the chewed up end was broken and left shards of plastic in her mouth she didn't notice for her mind was racing and thoughts were focused on only one thing.

Later that day

"Come in"

"Hello Super Intendant"

"Greetings Janet" he replied in a friendly manner she was not used to " what is it"

" well I have been looking at the info on the scrot-roasting incident in smeachmere grotto and it seems suspicious"

"Ok detective Altoin, what is it" he replied slowly.

"I believe the Keith Bunderswelt was a lactose intolerant, so what was he doing eating a cheese curry. He must of eaten the curry out, if we could find out where he got it that could help explain what happened.

"that's all very well detective Altoin. Maybe he had the curry at a restaurant and didn't even know what it was. I mean he was in in his sixties, he mite not of heard of paneer cheese before."

"ok super intendant but The paint blob also seems suspicious it Could only have been left there after he died because it was still wet when the samples taken. I believe he was not alone after the incident and someone else was there at some point and this person left the paint and a graphite shavings accidentally.

"are you really trying to say that some else was there", he remarked sarcastically" How do expect someone to force him to put his own testicles up his arse like this, he had no bruising on his body from forced action, no signs of breaking in in the apartment, no finger prints other his own. This ruddy sick old man was trying to chug himself onto the next dimension and got involved in to something he didn't know, he was foolish and unlucky. he probably didn't want kill himself but the combination of the curry and the ball roasting or what ever it's called killed him. It's sad to see someone go like that but it's better off he's gone, he was a sick old pervert."

" but the paint....."

"Paint gets everywhere it could have got onto something outside his house and when he came in transferred to floor. And the graphite could have been there for weeks. We can't waste police time on twisted old men that wank themselves into the afterlife in bizarre ways"

"I think we should look into this more sir, forgive my irony but the this scrot-roasting is not and open and shut case. It's fishy sir."

"there's proper crimes going on out that need solving that don't involve saggy old men's ball sacks hanging on there back detective Altoin. Just leave it at that."

She left the office it was still raining the sun was just setting and the traffic was worse than before. She drove back thinking about the incident

" The paint, the paint" she repeated to herself "I know there's something going" on Janet thought as she returned to her single bedroom apartment. She turned on the TV. SAS business kitchen was again for 3rd time in a week.

‘You have got to run this kitchen like it was a bloody war zone’

She changed the Channel.

‘Hello and welcome to the beatlesstry district news. Today's headline's counciler Martin Edwards is pushing forward a binary finance and accrumency reform against his peers approval. Chantel debone has been caught giving oral sex on celebrity doctors surgery. A 67 year old man has been found dead in his house in smeachmere grotto, police believe the death to be accidental. And anomous artist known as Bobby has put a new painting up today on on online auction stackingit.com. the painting called "the dainty hanging pony tail" sold in a matter of minutes for over 90,000 pounds, the profits have been believed been donated to lactose intolerant awareness charity the sticky poo fairys".

97 year Prince Martin of westfordshire has got engaged to 18 year old glamour model girlfriend cherry lee titingstone and is believed to be having wedding tommorow in his private hospital bed in west London.....

She turned the TV of and sighed.

Her phone began ringing

She only got calls off this number for one reason

"Hello super intendant."

"I want to talk to you about what you said earlier Janet, come round for dinner tommorow, I've made five been chilli"

Chapter 3

Red herrings and Brown Ice burgs

The phone was vibrating in the pocket of Basil Ghutterspunk's trousers

His heart sank again he knew he only got calls of this number for one reason.

"He-he-he-hello" he took a deep breath.

There was a pause, then a deep camp voice replied

"Hello my little super detective agent" parsley said in a loving way

"Did you use the picture for the investigation parsley" Basil asked excitedly

"Yes Basil your a good super detective agent, be careful not to leave paint marks again it's bad to waste your precious paint it costs me so much for it and I'll take that out of your salary next time.

"Yes deputy"

"Basil I need you to do some more investigations for me,"

Basil' heart started beating intensely

"I think a detective working for the police is secretly working for the Silent duck. She is trying to cover up old man Keith's murder and encouraging the police to follow up on red herrings. She's saying the paint and graphite you left is the Silent duck's. That picture you painted is meant to stop the silent duck and she knows that, so she's trying to get the police to look into and find you and stop you from solving the case"

"How can I stop her from messing up our investigations parsley"

"I need you get sample of her poo and I'll see if it matches the poo samples you took from old man Keith's arse. I believe she planted that poo in the old mans arse to make his balls stick up in his colon to build up methane pressure other wise how would they off had enough momentum to kill him! You need to get a whole turd though that's important for the DNA testing I've got to do on it, at least six inches or more if you can.

The line went dead

Basil put his wool hat on his extra large forehead. "I'll stop that bitch agent working for the silent duck and then I'll get my promotion, hyper detective agent Basil Ghutterspunk here I come"

More coming soon!!