Conversation · Gary, the Cryptofascist

"Come on, man. You're not under suspicion yet, but you will be if you keep evading questions."

He sighs. "Okay, fine, you got me. I'm a special topping pie delivery courier."

"What?"

"You heard me. I deliver topping pies. It's temporary. I'm looking for another job. Not many jobs for good men out there these days."

"You said you deliver special topping pies. What makes these topping pies special?"

"They're wheat-free. And vegan. And... huge." He pauses.

He's thinking of a way to gain some advantage from his embarrassing situation.

"That's basically it. I'm a pie delivery man. How about we change the subject?"

Yum. Did someone say topping pie?

"Okay, let's change it."

He looks around, half-ashamed, half-relieved.

"How about you deliver me a topping pie?"

"Sure. If you want, I could hook you up with some topping pie no problem."

"Sure. If you want, I could get you one for free if we ever meet in the city, officer. Wheat free. Just ask me later."

I'm satisfied. Are you satisfied? Because I am.

"Do you deliver letters to the secret mistresses of corporate and government officials?"

"What do I look like, a pansy? Besides, that kind of cavorting goes against the community values that would strengthen our city."

You're a simple cop asking a simple question. He can't beat around the bush much longer.

"Oh, I guess that's okay then." (Conclude.)

He smiles broadly.

"That's not an answer."

"I just didn't want to bore you with unnecessary detail, officer."

"I work as a special courier. You know, urgent deliveries, overnight deliveries, deliveries to out-of-the-way locations."

"Sounds shady."

"Officer, I would never. I just didn't want to bore you with unnecessary detail."

"As long you're making ends meet and advancing your career objectives."

"I'm doing all I can in this economy, officer."

What does he do then? This feels like a good opportunity to DOMINATE him.

There probably is a follow-up to this, but you can't think of any. Doesn't matter. Waste of time anyway. Gotta keep moving.

"So how about that topping pie?"

"I thought you'd forgotten! I happen to have one on me right now." He smiles broadly as he walks behind the bar and takes a large, flat box out of a black bag. "It should still be warm."

"What's on it?"

"Meatless bacon, avocado, glazed figs, basil, and tiny chunks of pineapple, seasoned with lime zest, freshly ground pepper -- and just a pinch of paprika for the officer!"

"Yummm. I can taste it already!"

"Enjoy." He smiles broadly.

"Great." The lieutenant mumbles. "First the sandwich, now a pie..."

"That sounds too fancy for an officer of the law."

"Revachol's protectors ought to enjoy Revachol's best topping pie!" He smiles broadly.

"What kind of devilry is this?"

He chuckles. "Not devilry, just Revachol's best topping pie!"

"No need to know what's on it. Just give it to me."

"Thank you for your cooperation." [Leave.]

Once more you hear that odd clicking sound coming from Gary.

"Yellow Man!" He turns toward Kim. "I mean... officer."

"Very generous of you to help us out, officer. I'm sure glad to be back from that little excursion."

"Boy, am I ever so grateful to you, officer! But I'm not the only one who wants to thank you..." He nods toward Lena.

"I'll talk to her then." [Leave.]

"Very generous of you to help us out, officer. I'm sure glad to be back from that little excursion."

"Not a lover of the great outdoors?"

"I like nature, just not this bloody coast. It's mostly drunks and degenerates that come here."

This man respects authority too much to see you for what you are. Pretend thou art a sober man!

"Drunks and degenerates -- that's my crew!"

"Dark times will do that to good men." He nods gravely, then shifts his gaze to the floor tiles.

Serious question time. This man is no innocent. No one is.

"I am neither of those things, I can assure you. I'm a by-the-books, clean-as-a-whistle, teetotaling officer. I'm not even tempted to touch intoxicants."

"I've been tempted on occasion." He nods gravely. "But someone has to stay strong for Revachol." His gaze shifts to the floor tiles.

"Degenerates? I've been trained to identify the slightest hint of degeneracy by the pre-eminent authority on it."

"Oh, uh... I didn't mean it in any scientific way." His gaze shifts nervously to the floor tiles.

"Sadly, I think I might be a drunk. Or a degenerate. Maybe even both..."

"Nobody's perfect. Have you never been tempted to drink?"