Transformation #2

I squinted at the computer screen in front of me and let out an airy grunt like a flatulent Donkey with a cork jammed up its arse.

My boss had sent me a document to review with the subject line screaming -

I tore my gaze from the screen and looked out the window. It was raining. It always seemed to be raining these days.

I needed a case. A private detective like myself was nothing without detectivity in his life.

Even the thought of masturbating into a jar of pickled garlic cloves wasn't helping shift my malaise.

Sighing, I turned back to the screen.

Next to me a chair creaked and I swiveled my chair around to grumpily chastise the owner, Mikey.

Hey, can you stop making so much bastarding noise? I'm trying to work here!?

Work?? You've been staring at your screen for the better part of three hours. I wish I had that kind of 'work.'

Mikey snarked in response.

My hand snaked out and grabbed Mikey's pen from his desk, making him flinch.

You like pens, Mikey? You think they will let you have pens in prison?

I growled at him like I was a man who had seen too many pens in his life.

Hey! Gimme that back!?

Mikey hooked a hand out to snatch at his pen but I darted back and leapt to my feet brandishing it as if I were in a room full of factory workers and the pen was indeed my jam-smeared penis.

Not so fast, sunshine.

BoomDawg, give me my bloody pen back. Haven't you got work to do?

He whined piteously like a fox on a treadmill wondering where the end was.

I flicked it contemptuously at him and he grabbed it clumsily from the air.

That's just a taster, Mikey. Now, tell me. What's the word on the street? Who is sticking what to who? When is the man not the man?

Mikey clutched at his pen and glared at me.

There's nothing new happening. Oh, wait. One of the guys was saying something about a new Transformation project kicking off?

Mikey's voice trailed off and he looked at me with concern.

Hey, are you ok?

I blinked rapidly. Transformation... There was a word that stirred up painful memories. Memories best left untouched.

Transformation you say?

My voice was quiet, dangerous sounding.

Yeah you know, like upgrading our systems and IT processes and shit?

I leapt forward and grabbed Mikey by the front of his off-white, grubby shirt.

An upgrade to our archaic IT systems, Mikey? Or a dreadful experiment conducted by shadowy figures within our organisation who may or may not be terrestrial in origin!?

Mikey struggled and sputtered in my iron grip. At the back of my mind I hoped he wasn't becoming aroused. Hell, I hoped I wasn't.

What!?! Shadowy whats!? No!? I don't know what the hell you are talking about!?

Dismissively, I let him go. He slumped into his chair like an old bag of washing.

So, Mikey was denying the involvement of aliens in the matters of men? Denying some kind of fiendish plot to subvert humanity into something else...

This could only mean one thing.

I pulled on my coat and reached out for my Fedora settling it onto my head at a jaunty angle.

It looked like I had a case...