On a nearly forgotten street, on the edge of Little Falls, there is a strip mall. If I had to guess, and I’m no master of the unknown, but if I had to guess, I’d say about sixteen people stop by the various stores in the this strip mall on a daily basis. There are four stores left out of the original twelve. There used to be a Big Billy’s Building Supplies in the middle but once that went, business really started to go down hill. It really was a shame what happened to Big Billy, first his beloved spillex Jefferson died, then his partner of nine years left him, and then the mites took his legs. Just wasn’t the same after that. Really makes yah think about your own life.
After the Big Billy’s closed down, the other stores started dropping like flies. As of my writing this there’s only Exotic Escapes, the travel agency, which is a front for the Flexar mafia. Which, although a very bad influence on the town’s youth, they are the main source of revenue keeping this part of Little Falls afloat. They maintain the roads, keep the street lamps on at night, and allow the remaining businesses to continue operating.
For some of my bunker buddies; after the earth’s acquisition by the Flexar Empire, most of their highest ranking officials chose not to stay and enjoy all of the bounties our planet has to offer. They took many of our valuable resources, and left. But most of their lower ranking citizens who had been part of the earlier stages of the invasion chose to stay. Some had obviously fell in love, we all know how that goes. Some had acquired a taste for the food or drink, particularly Jamaican rum. Not sure what it is about the rum, seems like beings with a refined pallet may have chosen a spirit with more nuance, more variety, like say whiskey. But they went with rum. While a few had worked incredibly hard to set up a complex crime network in towns across America, and were not about to give that up.
There’s a fish tank store, odd, what with the shortage of water and all. And of course, a Quiznos. Of all the fast food chains for the Flexar people to have picked they had to choose Quiznos. Like no one really liked Quiznos when we weren’t under the control of an eccentric dictator from the Le-nar System. But now it’s one of the only things we can eat. I believe there was even talk of the company closing down many of it’s locations due to a drop in sales. This journalist, as you know was a much larger fan of Arby’s, the awful yet delicious meat sandwiches, the horsey sauce, seems unfair.
Calling Jeff’s office the fourth business in the strip mall seems like a stretch, as I told you, Big Billy’s is closed, but Jeff still operates out of an office in the back. You have to pull into the loading dock, and go through a warehouse, littered with old power tools and paint thiner to get to it, but I guess technically it’s operational. That is how Jeff Fielding prefers it, he is a detective. A private eye of the truest breed, like his father before him. Jeff Fielding is also half Flexar not so much like his father before him, his father was all human, like I said, we all know how that goes.
It was a gloomy Wednesday morning they day I chose to stop by Jeff’s office, I had called over twenty times, but no one answered the phone, so I decided to stop down and see if he took walk ins. As I passed through the parking lot a series of surly looking individuals kept a strict eye on me from their spot outside the Exotic Escapes. I drove around the back of the Big Billy’s made my way to Jeff’s office, but it was empty. I took a seat and waited.
I believe I had nodded off on my own, I don’t entirely remember, but when I woke up I was in the fish tank store, I was tied to a chair, and a short woman with flowing red hair had a gun on me. Her skin was freckled, and had the sun not been so overwhelming since the Flexar atmosphere harvest, her skin would have been white as porcelain. But as it was, she was quite tan, clearly spending time outside. Her name as I would later find out was Kara. “Who. Are. You?” She asked bluntly. “I am Greenland, Arthur Greenland. I was trying to find Jeff, he was chosen as our Little Falls small business owner of the month.” A small smile came across her face as I said this, before it gave way to the biggest laugh I have ever heard come from a person that small.
“Jeff! You’re not gonna believe this, he’s from the coupon book!” She yelled. Now I know that I may not work for the New York Times or the Washington Post, but we are a lot more than a coupon book. I truly hope you, my loyal readers, know how much I respect you and your loyalty. Also I am required to say that you can get twenty five percent off of Roast Beef foot longs at Quiznos this weekend.
“Wait! I’m the small business owner of the month?” Jeff asked walking from the stock room carrying two large fish tanks. Jeff is a man you would easily forget, no distinguishing marks of any kind, with dreadlocks tied up in a bun, in his late thirties who I would assure you got carded for the cigarette he had hanging from his mouth. He was in a suit that before lugging these fish tanks around most likely looked pretty good. And he of course has a large set of wings jutting from his back. Jeff’s mother as I mentioned is Flexar.
He set up a hose and started filling the tanks before coming over to me and cutting the ropes that were tying my hands. “Arthur Greenland, I guess in a town like Little Falls it was only a matter of time before my business popped up on your list.” He said before he was cut off by Kara, “How are you here for him and not me? I run an actual business. People buy things from me, I pay rent, I own a billboard.” Jeff smiled as he listened to the argument.
“She’s right Arty, she does own a billboard.” I was not sure how to respond at this point so I said as little as possible. “The owners are chosen at random.” They are of course not, I just hate that billboard. The mascot for a fish tank store is a raccoon named Nathan. What is that? Nothing about that makes sense. It’s like she bought the billboard from another store and changed the name. When are raccoons ever good mascots. No offense to raccoons, but really? I digress.
“Mr. Fielding, I just need a small amount of your time, ask you a few questions, and I will be on my way. Or you can simply say no, and I will more than likely just interview your friend here.” I said taking my tape recorder from my bag.
Jeff turned the water off before the tanks got too full and patted me on the shoulder. “Lets do this.” Kara, arms crossed and clearly curious watched us leave.