Dressed in White, Part 2: Hurry Back to Bell End

Trooay sat motionless on the rooftop across from the studio where Dr. Richard Enbalz, a.k.a. the Roddler, hosted his weekly public access television show, staring at the building through a pair of binoculars. Were it not for the occasional very slight rise and fall of his body as he breathed, one could mistake him for a wax figurine. In fact, he was lying so motionless that his entire cigarette--including the filter--was a column of ash. Eventually, the radio placed on the ground next to his head crackled as the voice of Diana Trillion came over the line: "Jim...can you see me?"

Grunting and coughing as the ashes from his former cigarette dusted his face, Trooay shifted his weight and picked up the radio. "Yes Diana...now try to be cool over there. We can't afford to blow this chance." Having already changed position, Trooay took the opportunity to fish another cigarette from his rapidly dwindling pack.

"You shouldn't smoke so much, Jim," Diana said in a surprisingly girlish tone over the radio, "or you'll never be able to run Mr. Dentist down." If Trooay didn't know better, he might have thought that she was flirting. As it was, he decided to remind her what their angle was.

"Never mind my health, Diana. Leave that to Dr. Oceania. Just remember what we're here for. This is our best chance to catch Enbalz after more than three months of staking him out. We still don't have any idea what that cryptic piece of info O'Danahan snagged means. And especially after what happened to O'Danahan..." Trooay's voice trailed off as he remembered finding the corpse of his friend, pasted to the front of the DCPD building with a thick, viscous shellac and a cruel note: "It'll take more than one man to rub out...The Roddler!"

"Jim...Jim, are you okay?" Diana asked, shaking Trooay out of his dark reverie.

"Yes, I'm fine. Just...be careful, alright?"

"You know I will, Jim. I'll radio you again once I'm in position outside Dr. Enbalz's office. The show starts in less than an hour, so he's got to be finalizing his plan."

In truth, Trooay couldn't have been more pleased with Trillion's efforts over the past month. After O'Danahan's untimely demise, the Chief had decided--over Trooay's objections--that a woman would be able to get closer to the heart of Enbalz's conspiracy. Diana had then transformed herself from the perpetually disheveled librarian that Trooay had always seen into a downright sexy Bad Secretary. Unfortunately, the doctor's tastes ran in another direction and Trillion had to redo her disguise so that she looked like the Brawny lumberjack. Still, that Secretary look had rekindled something in Trooay...

"Jim! I hear something...it sounds like Dr. Enbalz is coming out...of his office! I'm going to trail him to the studio." Trooay then heard the muffled sounds of Diana greeting Dr. Enbalz and small talk as they walked to the television studio. He thought he heard the word rocket...and he definitely heard something about Bell End. Diana then opened the channel so that Trooay could clearly hear Enbalz's effeminate Southern Drawl: "Well Rufus, I have to...hurrah back to Bell End now..." he chuckled softly. "But you just think about our little chat today, eh?"

Silence.

Trooay waited for what felt like an eternity before Trillion came back. "Jim...I think we have enough to blow this thing wide open...and you'll never believe what he's planning...Jim, it's horrible, he's going to launch mil--AHHHHH!"

Trooay jumped up as Diana's scream was cut off by Enbalz coming over her radio: "Trooay, did you really think I'd be fooled by your little girl here? I used to make a livin' spottin' Adam's apples in the back alleys of N'awlins. Now, if you want your little spy here back, you're just gonna have to come in here and get her." Trooay heard Diana curse and shout over the sound of the Roddler's screeching laughter as Enbalz and his goons slapped her around.

"Dammit Dick Enbalz!!! I'm going to drown you in a pool of fluid if it's the last thing I do!!" bellowed the detective. He then dropped his radio in disgust and walked back toward the door that would take him into the stairwell and down to his car on the streets below. Pulling out his cell phone, he called the chief.

"Chief, it's Trooay. That son of a bitch took Diana...he's holding her hostage...you won't believe--"

"Trooay, I'm watching it now! He just broadcast all that on his TV show!! Now listen to me, you loose cannon, you just wait for the backup to get there. Chances are he's got that place booby trapped six ways to Sunday, plus we still have a team undercover at Bell End! Don't put them in jeopardy! So, Trooay, you just STAY PUT!"

"Chief, we both know that staying put isn't what I do," Trooay said through gritted teeth as he stubbed out his cigarette and took off his hat and jacket. "And I wouldn't worry about sending any backup here. Just send a hearse."

"Trooay, I'm warning you--" the chief screamed, but it was too late. On a rooftop across Docks City, Jim Trooay had already hung up his cell phone, donned his sunglasses and pulled out the biggest, blackest pistol this side of the Rio Grande.

"There's only two rules in this world... you never hit a woman...and you DON'T FUCK WITH JIM TROOAY!!!!" These last words tore out of the hero's lungs as he ran toward the edge of the building and leapt toward the TV studio, firing his gun in the air like the biggest, blackest boner ever to have existed.

The Chief, whirling about in a frenzy of action ordered his team to storm Bell End and called for every available unit to make tracks for the Enbalz studio. He turned his attention to the screen to see the Roddler, clothed in a skin-tight green costume with unambiguously phallic white exclamation points decorating various areas. He held a long, slender revolver trained on Diana Trillion's bruised frame in the background. Oddly, however, she didn't appear to be restrained. Turning the volume up, the chief heard Enbalz's voice on the air--

"--and last, I want it all delivered by a team of youngboys! Now, unless Docks City complies with this, I will unleash my fiendishly clever new biological weapon--THE MILK ROCKET!"

With this, the screen cut to a long shot of Bell End Mansion as the domed end of the giant observatory that topped the house opened, revealing a bulbous rocket. "Oh Goddammit!" the chief shouted, just as--

--Trillion suddenly leapt into action, knocking the Roddler's gun away and delivering a kick to his groin. "Eeeeyah!" he shouted, literally chasing vomit off the TV screen, at the same time as--

--Trooay burst through the windows of the television station, his last two shots incapacitating the cameraman and one of the Roddler's goons. By the time he shook off all the glass, however, the Roddler--

--had recovered enough to shout for his producer to switch back to the Bell End shot and depress the button on the remote in his hand. A plume of smoke billowed from the mansion as the Milk Rocket rode a silver stream into the cerulean twilight of Docks City. Meanwhile--

--the Chief saw the launch on TV and heard a report from his team at Bell End as they finished storming the mansion and overwheming the Roddler's guards. Just as this report was finished, the Chief noticed the TV show had returned to the studio, showing Diana Trillion savagely beating the Roddler as he bawled in terror. As this was happening--

--Trooay sprinted into the control room and judo chopped the producer, throwing him into a bank of computers which effectively ended the telecast. As the cameras went black--

--the Chief shoved himself into his sedan, driving over a hundred to get downtown to the TV station with all the other officers, all of whom heard--

--the high pitched scream of the Milk Rocket as it hurtled back toward the Earth, apparently aimed directly for the television station, where--

--Trooay, seeing what was happening, rushed from the control booth and slapped the now quite hysterical Dr. Enbalz from Trillion's fierce grasp, sweeping her out the broken window which had provided his entrance to the room, just as--

--the Milk Rocket shattered the roof of the studio, ejaculating a noxious mixture of gooey liquid into the studio while Trooay and Trillion slid down the outside of the building to safety.


Two hours later, as the DCPD, paramedics, and emergency services cleaned the scene up and vaccumed up the spent mess of the Rocket, Trooay and Trillion stood talking to the Chief, his mouth once again filled with a cigar.

"Goddammit you two...you've caused millions of dollars in damage here with your reckless behavior! I have half a mind to reassign you both to the Pawn Shop Squad!"

"Well, Chief, the way I see it, you owe us. We foiled the Milk Rocket plot and destabilized the Dentist network in the city, while capturing one of his top lieutenants. I'd say that's a pretty good haul," said Trillion, smiling.

The Chief grumbled softly "Ahh, you're both alike. If you weren't such damn good cops I'd..." With this, the old man took his perfectly square body across the street to supervise cleanup operations. Trooay and Trillion both laughed as they noticed a stretcher coming out of the building, carrying the soaked body of the Roddler.

"Well, Dick, you really ended up covered in your own jeezum this time," taunted Trooay.

"This isn't ovah yet, Jim, not by a long--oh God, keep her away from me! AHHHH!" shrieked Enbalz, as Trillion snuck in yet another blow to the doctor. "We'll see about that, Dick," Trooay replied, "And I'm coming to visit you in the hospital. I'll bring you some flowers...or how about a nice veggie basket? You like cucumbers, right??"

Enbalz groaned as the pair turned away from him. "You know, Diana," Trooay said with a light in his eyes that hadn't been there for years, "We make a pretty good team."

"We?" she laughed. "I did all the work there. You just broke a window and some monitors."

"I guess you're right," responded Trooay. "You didn't need saving. The Roddler did. But, ah, Diana...you know, I'd kiss you right now, if you weren't still dressed like a lumberjack and looking exactly like my old gym teacher."

"Jim," she said, "You're going to have to loosen up." And with that she grabbed him and pressed her lips to his, her fake mustache making him sneeze.

And that is how two men ended up kissing in a pool of white liquid on the Docks City Six O'Clock News.

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Oh my! What an exciting adventure! Romance, intrigue, action, and viscosity! Where will the Trooay/Trillion relationship go?!? How will the city pay for the damages?? Which nefarious lieutenant of Mr. Dentist's criminal underworld will be the next to fall???

FIND OUT NEXT TIME!!!

Dressed in White, part 1: Dr. Enbalz, I Presume?

"Trooay! Trillion! Get in my office!"

Diana Trillion leaps up from her desk, sending up a flurry of paperwork in her wake. She half-jogs, half-staggers to the Chief's office, encumbered by a smart jacket and pencil skirt that are just on this side of too chic. Her wild hair always seems a half-step behind, while her jittery, self-conscious manner does little to convey the brilliant mind behind her over-sized glasses.

Jim Trooay, on the other hand, doesn't even bother to get up. His nose in an overstuffed manila folder, he rolls across the bustling police department, deftly navigating coffee-toting assistants and uniformed officers without looking up from the file. Trooay cares little for his appearance, as evidenced by his coffee-stained oxford shirt, ratty tweed pants, and his socks -- one argyle, one checked -- stuffed into two dilapidated brown leather shoes.

The Chief wastes no time with pleasantries: "Alright, you two -- I hope that you've had enough time to learn your lesson from the Esson Madees inci-- for Pete's sake, Jim! Look at a man when he's talking to you!"

"Whuh? Oh, sorry, Chief ... I just can't get enough of this HODOX file! We were so close to Dentist that time, and I'm just sure I can get a new angle on him!"

"I'm afraid we have more pressing matters at hand, Jim. No sense in dredging up ancient history around here, not with this madman on the loose. Tell me, Trillion ... what do you know about ... The Roddler?"

Trillion recites her own file on the criminal mastermind: "The Roddler, née Richard Enbalz, is as close to this reality's version of a mad scientist as can be found. Widely assumed to have formulated many of Mr. Dentist's most deadly concoctions, his understanding of the chemical world is matched only by his capacity for evil. Although he has never been formally charged with any criminal activity, he remains on the short list of suspects in many cases -- The Beatlemania epidemic of 1991, the Jeezum Medicine shortage of 1997, and last year's PDPW outbreak. While the source of his pseudonym has never been confirmed, many believe it has something to do with his obsession with vials, silos, and walking canes."

Trooay lets out a whistle: "Boy, Diana ... most of the time I'm just amazed you can find your damn keys every day, but then you show off what that brain can really do and--"

Showing only the faintest sign that Trooay's comment has fazed her, Trillion continues: "He currently resides at Bell End, a 19th century mansion on the outskirts of Docks City, where he runs an online craft shop specializing in glassblowing and woodcarving. He also hosts a weekly public access show about both hobbies, and has a modest following, despite (or perhaps because of) his criminal associations." One could hear the parentheses in that last sentence.

The Chief allows a small amount of fatherly pride to creep into his otherwise crabby features. "Good work, Trillion. As you probably know, we've had surveillance on this guy for years. We've got agents posing as gardeners at Bell End and even as techies on his show ... I can't believe he gets away with calling it Blowin' and Wood, but he does and that's beside the point. The point is that we've collected almost enough evidence to be able to arrest this guy for building weapons of mass destruction. O'Danahan even managed to nab blueprints for something big. Unfortunately, as you can see ... well, it's a pretty crummy copy."

The Chief produces a large, faded rendering that just barely reveals a long, slender object reminiscent of a long-range missile. Written in an exacting hand above the drawing are two inscrutable words -- the only letters that are legible read:

-I-K --CK--S

Trooay and Trillion make eye contact for the first time in six weeks. He breaks the silence: "Well, Diana, it looks like we've got a mad scientist to take down."

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SILK JACKETS? I think not, dear reader! Tune in next time for our first-ever continued storyline! Hopefully the wait won't be long...

Mr. Dentist's Evil Plan: The HODOX Protocols

"And now, gentlemen, behold my latest--and most abominable--creation!" bellowed Mr. Dentist as he swept a white sheet back from the large platform that dominated the center of the auditorium. Assembled around the room were representatives from various rogue nations and terrorist organizations known and feared around the civilized world. They had come in anticipation of being the first to bid on Mr. Dentist's new superweapon, a project that he had spoken of cryptically for some time. As the sheet flew into the air, each of the men in the room craned his neck for a better view of the table.

The viewing platform in the center of the room rotated upright to display what, for all intents and purposes, appeared to be a man dressed in cardboard boxes to give him the appearance of a robot. The boxes were spray-painted a cheap chrome, the head-unit had two eye-holes and a broad smile painted across the bottom and there were what looked like bleach caps glued to the chest portion, along with several coat buttons and a drawn-on control panel. Topping the machine (man? man-chine?) was a wire coat hanger that slowly rotated as the robot stared into the crowd.

Mr. Dentist strode confidently forward and exclaimed, "Behold, the Human Or Dog Operating X-Terminator...or, as I like to call it, HODOX!!!!"

At this, he threw his arms back in delight, waiting for a wave of stunned gasps to wash over him. Instead, he was greeted with a cacophony of derisive laughter that threatened to shatter the windows of Mr. Dentist's auditorium. Sullenly, he quieted the crowd.

"Just what in the hell is so funny, you beetleheads?" he demanded. "This project cost me over five hundred million dollars and almost five years. It is the ultimate in anti-personnel/canine weaponry! With only one of these, I could destroy the entire DCPD, their entire canine unit and finally destroy that nuisance Jim Trooay! You fools, with even five of these, you could rule all of the Florida panhandle!!"

"But...Mr. Dentist...there are no terrorists on the Florida panhan--"

"Shut up Basketball!! Shut up shut up shut up!!!! You've been against this from the start!" Mr. Dentist yelled at Basketball Jones, his diminutive assistant who suffered horribly from Alopecia. Cowed, Basketball slunk away.

"I yam afryaid yyour assistyant is ryight, Myeester Dyeentist," intoned Beluga C. Dostoyevsky, the immensely obese on-site representative of the Russain mafia. "Thyis...ryobit...it lyooks wyeak."

"W-yeak? W-YEAK?!?! I'll show you w-yeak. Beluga, come down here and point your gun at HODOX. If you can stop him before he disables you, I will give everyone in this room one free order of weapons grade plutonium. If not, you must each order at least one HODOX. Fair?"

The entire room mumbled assent and Beluga C. Dostoyevsky waddled next to the platform and drew a pistol from his coat. He aimed the gun squarely at the robot's head as Mr. Dentist unfastened the strap holding HODOX to the platform. Mr. Dentist took out the remote control and pressed a button. Jerkily, much like a child pretending to be an automaton, HODOX headed for the Russian gangster. Beluga laughed and the room joined him in a wave of mild chuckles, eager to obtain their free plutonium.

"Myeester Dyeentist, thyis wyill bye thye yeasiest plyutyonium Y hyave evyer gyotten," Dostoyevsky laughed as he prepared to fire his gun. As his finger tightened on the trigger, however, Mr. Dentist pressed another button on the control and HODOX spoke: "IamONADock...ANDABOARD" whirred the robot in a mechanical drone that sounded like a high-strung telemarketer near the end of his rope. Mr. Dentist pressed the button and the robot said it again.

"Whyat? Whyat dyoes hye myean?" Dostoyevsky asked. Mr. Dentist just shrugged and smiled as the advancing HODOX unit reached arm's length from the gangster.

"Nyo myatter, Y cyan styill shyoot hyim," laughed the mafioso, raising his gun once more. As he did, however, Mr. Dentist jammed a button on the control and HODOX delivered a brutal kick directly to Beluga's balls, causing the Russain to literally explode in a massive ball of flames. The audience sat in stunned silence.

"So now, gentlemen, how many HODOXes can I get you?"

As the terrorists jumped and shouted out their orders to Basketball Jones, Mr. Dentist smiled to himself and rubbed his hands together. "Yes, yes. Soon, my HODOXes will sweep over the world, first destroying DCPD headquarters, capturing the chief and setting the trap for Jim Trooay. And once Trooay has been disposed of, my next phase can begin. Little do these fools know that I will remain in permanent control of each HODOX, waiting until the moment when I can activate their core brains, causing them to turn on their masters and exact my bru--Basketball, did you turn off my microphone? Oh GODDAMMI--"

Fifteen Years Later

[NOTE: As this blog finds its footing, expect major shifts in tone and style.  Our hope is to expand beyond the basic script format as we delve deeper into our characters' backstories. While we slog through this obligatory exposition, however, you're just going to have to deal with it.]

This scene takes place roughly FIFTEEN YEARS AFTER the Opening.

Night scene in a small DCPD office.  Despite the oversized leather chair behind his desk, THE CHIEF stands tensely in front of it, with the shadows from the window slats slicing his features.  THE CHIEF is a man notable only for his perfect cube of a body -- his height, width, and depth are all roughly four feet ten inches long.  He is clearly agitated with JIM TROOAY, who slouches in the solitary chair in front of the desk.  TROOAY is dressed like someone who used to give a damn -- jacket draped across the chair, suspenders instead of a belt, porkpie hat jammed without a thought onto a corner of his weather-beaten skull, and a crushed cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

THE CHIEF: Trooay, you're never gonna make detective if you keep killing witnesses!  That makes, what?  Three you've offed in the past eight months?  Do you have any idea how much ass I'm gonna hafta eat down at City Hall?

TROOAY attempts to straighten and light his cigarette.

THE CHIEF: Look, Trooay.  You and I both know exactly where we're at in this Dentist case.  My pesky shrinks at the thought, but you're the only one with a bead on the guy and the whole town knows it.  I'm stuck with yas, but that doesn't mean you get a free pass to piss all over me and my department.  You're  gettin' a partner.

TROOAY [unfazed]: Aw, chief, c'mon... we've done this dance before!  You set me up with some company stooge who can't hack it and I end up havin' to trick him into a locked closet or somethin'... You know I'm good for Dentist on my own -- a partner would only slow me down.

THE CHIEF: Maybe so, Trooay.  I've said it before, but this time ... I think you're wrong.  [pressing the intercom button on his desk] Ms. Cycline, send in Ms. Trillion.

TROOAY scoffs.  The door opens and DIANA TRILLION enters.  TRILLION is beautiful, but hasn't quite figured that out for herself yet -- her hairstyle and wardrobe are at least ten years behind the times, she wears large glasses despite needing only a weak prescription, and she lugs around a distinctly un-feminine bag overflowing with papers and sundry lady accessories.  TROOAY doesn't look up, leaving her standing.

TRILLION: Is this the right office?  Ms. Cycline ... was that her name?  It sounded so strange to me ...  Is she a bicycle enthusiast or something?  Anyway, she told me it was the fourth office on the right, but I dropped my bag and I may have miscounted ... I'm ... Diana Trillion?

THE CHIEF: Yes, Ms. Trillion, you're in the right office.  Thank you for coming down on such short notice.  This is ... Trooay, stand up!  For God's sake, Jim, grow up and shake your new partner's hand.  I'll go get you a chair, Ms. Trillion.

While THE CHIEF exits, TROOAY drags himself out of the chair and reveals a charm long thought dead.

TROOAY: James R. Trooay, DCPD.  Ms. ... Trillion, was it?  As in a thousand billions?

TRILLION: That's right -- twelve zeroes.  Diana S. Trillion, FB --

THE CHIEF [rushing back in behind a rolling chair that knocks TRILLION into it]: That's DCPD now, Ms. Trillion!  We're your, uh, family now!  Ho ho, sorry about that ... are ya comfortable?

TRILLION: I suppose I better be ...

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Will Trooay put up with Trillion?  Will their combined effort be enough to stop Mr. Dentist's nefarious plot to ... What is Mr. Dentist's nefarious plot this time?  More importantly, FB WHAT?  Tune in to the next episode of The Trooayverse to be confronted with a whole new set of questions!

Opening: The Origins of Jim Trooay

Welcome to the Trooayverse, home to an ever-expanding world of preposterous nonsense and comic hilarity. In today's first installment, you'll meet the main character--Jim Trooay, a hard-boiled detective--and his arch-nemesis, the supervillain Mr. Dentist. You'll also learn a little bit about the history of their epic feud. And now, without further ado, we take you to...the TROOAYVERSE!

SCENE ONE

Interior of a high school. Two students who share an obvious but mild dislike of each other are waiting in line at a soda machine. The first, MR. DENTIST, wears a strange-looking suit-- an odd choice for a high school freshman. The second, JIM TROOAY, is dressed like Lou Reed. MR. DENTIST approaches the drink machine and buys a Coke. JIM TROOAY follows and presses the Coke button. Nothing happens.

MR. DENTIST: Oh...sorry. I guess I got the last one?

JIM TROOAY: Oh, that's okay.

DRAMATIC MUSIC PLAYS!!

SCENE TWO

That night. Closeup on Jim Trooay's face where we can see flames flickering in his sunglasses. He smiles and lights a cigarette. The camera slowly pans back as he turns and walks away. We see that he has been watching a house in flames. As he walks away, the camera shifts to display him walking away from the burning, exploding house in slow motion.

JIM TROOAY: (In voice-over) There are only two rules in this world: never hit a woman and DON'T FUCK WITH JIM TROOAY!

As he concludes speaking, there is a large explosion that ejects a smoking MR. DENTIST from the house. He rockets through the night sky and crashes into a tree. As TROOAY keeps walking away, we hear for the first time of many:

MR. DENTIST: TRRRRROOOOOOOOAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYY!!