Conversation · Kim Kitsuragi

"I mean your sweet little plaything upstairs." (More fiddle playing.)

"More fiddle playing! I can't believe this shit. What is this mime trying to do, get to me?"

"No-no..." The lieutenant intervenes -- to re-contextualize. "He's just playing his viola da gamba. Before becoming a detective my partner was a violinist. Many of us were..."

He's working really, really hard to spin this. It's not easy.

He gives you a stern sideways glance. "Time to move to more serious matters. Like what really happened between you and the man you hanged."

"Fuck that! Kick his ass, boss, this is a fiddle-free establishment!"

"You hear that?" He squints and points at you. "One more peep out of you and you're on the curb, fiddle man."

"Goooooooooood... lord... what is happening to me?" (Look up.)

"Yeah, what is happening to you?" He inspects you: your eyes bulging and your face drooping down your skull. "Are you on narcotics?"

"No-no," the lieutenant intervenes -- to re-contextualize. "My partner is a spiritual man. He was a minister before joining the RCM. Many of us were..."

He's working really, really hard to spin this.

He gives you a stern sideways glance. "Time to move to more earthly matters. Like what really happened here -- detective?" He snaps his fingers under your nose.

"At least he put the fucking fiddle down. I've seen this before, Titus. Addict cops. They got access to confiscated drugs and then they start experimenting."

"You better not OD in our booth, cop. Make sure you get out before you keel over."

"'Tis pity she's a whore." (Wink.)

"Yeah, it fucking is, but whaddaya do -- say no to a nice piece of ass like that?" He looks you in the eye. "I'd like to see you try, fiddle-man."

"Yeah like he's ever gonna pull top shelf pussy like that!" The tattooed man laughs. "He's what? Eight hundred years old now?"

"Yeah, you pull incredible pussy, boss. No one pulls pussy like you!"

"Titus, pussy-boy..." (Dramatically put the fiddle down.) "You and I both now where this is going."

"Do we? Because I really, really don't." He tilts his head with something resembling curiosity.

"Did he just call you a pussy-boy?"

"No-no..." The lieutenant intervenes to re-contextualize. "He's just playing his viola da gamba. Before becoming a detective my partner was a violinist. Many of us were..."

He's working really, really hard to spin this, but it's not easy.

He gives you a stern sideways glance. "Time to move to more serious matters. Like what really happened between you and the man you hanged."

"Like hell it is! I still can't believe he called you a pussy-boy, Titus. What does that mean?"

"I have no idea, E." He shakes his head. "I don't know what a pussy-boy is. I'm old fashioned."

"It can't be good, boss." He turns to you. "You got something more to say pussy boy man?"

"The same thing happened to my friend Garte over there. A chick tried to make him part of her cock carousel."

"The fucking what now?" He points to Garte. "You mean the barman?"

I wanna get off, I don't like saying those things.

No, no, there's no way off. The carousel is spinning.

"Cock carousel."

"Yeah yeah, cock carousel. I hear the goddamned word. What are you saying?"

"Boss, I think he means a joyride made of suckas. You telling us we're suckers?"

"Cock carousel."

"Yeah, thanks for bringing a new word in my life." He nods. "Now fuck off, will'ya?"

I don't wanna say cock-carousel anymore.

Okay then. Your fault. You were one cock carousel away from breaking the case, but okay. Guess you don't need my help.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, Kim, I'm fine. Back to questions..." (I don't want to die.)

"What fucking questions, carousel man?"

"Cock carousel."

"Boss, I think he's just gonna keep saying cock carousel."

"Cock carousel."

"Sounds like you're on some kind of carousel yourself. And it's not a pretty one."

"No, he's not." He looks at you with pleading eyes.

"Cock csrosssel"

"Officer? Look at me. I need to see if your face is drooping." He sounds incredibly worried.

"I don't feel so good."

"Yeah, you don't look so good..." He extends a can. "Beer?"

[Leave.]

"Guys, seriously. I've seen this. Stop laughing. Is his face drooping?"

"That's cafeteria manager to you, Titus."

"What are you, his bitch now?"

"That is unimportant. Focus on the words cock carousel."

"Yeah, we're all very focused. What does it mean?"

"I'm gonna tell you a little story about Kim here."

"What fucking story?"

A story that fits the occasion, of course! I invented a wonderful allegory for all this...

"No, no." He looks around. "There is no story."