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| Clitoreese Starling |
The two women were nearing the end of the seven mile training course that snaked through the woods surrounding the F.B.I. compound in Quantico, Virginia. The blonde, Clitoreese Starling, was trailing only a few yards behind her room mate, LaQuanda Jackson. Both women were accepted into the academy through hard work, perserverance, determination and the fact that one was retarded the other Black.
Clitoreese was nauseatingly aware that trailing behind her friend in temperatures exceeding 100 degrees could be potentially fatal. Every breath she sucked into her lungs was making her gag.
"LaQuanda," Clitoreese hollered out, "when are you going to see the doctor about your yeast infection?"
"I was thinking about seeing him tomorrow," gasped Jackson, her face turning purple from both the exertion and because it felt like her snatch was on fire, "why do you wanna know?"
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| LaQuanda |
Little pin-pricks of light began exploding in her peripherals. Clitoreese knew from her experiences with auto-erotic strangulation while finger banging herself, she was on the verge of passing out.
The stench was beginning to make Clitoreese just a little loopy. Ghastly visions of the Kurds gassed by Saddam Hussein began to play out before her very eyes. She imagined she was now among the bodies. Thankfully, she was snapped out of the nightmare when she heard someone pounding up the trail behind them. It was their drill instructor, and he looked pissed.
"Well, well, well. I've been looking everywhere for you twats. You should have finished the course an hour ago," he bitched. "Wanna know something Starling? I've got more important things to do than chasing down a skank to give her a personal message".
Tilting his head upwards, he began to sniff the air with a look of total disgust twisting up his face, "Jesus Christ, you girls come across a rotting salmon out here?"
"That's not a fish carcass you're getting a whiff of, it's ........Clitoreese's explanation for the source of the pungent odor permeating the air was cut short when she saw the piercing glare from LaQuanda.
"Starling, Special Agent Jack Crawdad wants to see you in his office right fucking now," said the D.I. A rustling sound from behind him caught his attention and he turned."And what the fuck is your problem Jackson?"
LaQuanda, itchy snatch nearly driving her mad, had discovered a huge pine cone and was furiously going at it like she was sanding a door.
Unfortunately, in her haste, she had tied the laces of both shoes together. Taking her first step toward the door, she tripped and did an unceremonious face plant into Jackson beaver. At that moment, Clitoreese realized she no longer need to fear death. She had just had her nose stuck in it!
CHAPTER 3
"Please take a seat Starling." he said. He was going through a stack of crime scene photos as he spoke. He then opened his drawer and pulled out a thick folder and began shuffling through it. Deep worry lines creased his forehead.
"You heard about the serial killer the Bureau has been investigating for the last three years?" he asked.
"Everyone is talking about him, sir. He's been linked to over 30 murders," she answered.
"And I guess you've heard the nickname they have given him?" he inquired.
"Yes I have, sir. The press refers to him as Buffalo Wing Bill," she said.
"And do you know the reason for this disgusting reference?" he said.
"After he kidnaps, rapes and mutilates his victims, he shoves a hot wing up their ass," she giggled.
"That is sort of amusing," said Jack. "but this may be his downfall. The crime lab has done an analysis of the hot wing sauce and we've narrowed down the source to Popeye's, KFC or Bojangles."
"I'm a little confused, sir. How exactly does this help us find Buffalo Wing Bill?"
"Good question, Starling. Give me a couple of minutes to answer that question," he said. Picking up his phone he asked his secretary to connect him to the FBI director. "Hello chief, this is Jack.You know that Buffalo Wing case were working on? How exactly does the analysis of the sauce help us find him? You don't know? Who does know? Nobody? That was a total waste of money and time. I wonder who the dip-shit was that authorized it? You're the dip-shit? Sorry, chief. I've got to go, President Obama is on the other line!" as he slammed down the phone.
"Starling, that aspect of the case is much too complex for a rookie like you to understand," he sheepishly told Starling.
Wanting to distance himself from this major bureaucratic fuck up, he began to furiously shuffle through the stack of paper on his desk until he found what he was looking for.It was Starlings dossier.
Clitoreese was beginning to get an unsettling feeling that her days were numbered at Quantico. So what came next came as a real shock.
"So after all that, as head of the task force looking into the Buffalo Wing Bill case, I have decided to bring you on board," he said.
Starling was expecting him to burst out laughing at any second, but Crawdad was totally serious.
"Now let's consider these facts, Starling. The FBI has some of the best profilers in the world. We have agents with over 25 years experience coming out our ass. You are a 24 year old third class rookie with no field experience. And I have asked you to become a member of a task force involved in the most baffling case in our history. Why would that be?" he asked.
Starling was lost deep in thought for a minute and then it hit her.
"Either this is the plot line for another improbable and unrealistic Hollywood movie or your expecting a blow-job from me," she pondered.
"Bingo!" said Crawdad."But first, I'm sending you to Michigan State Mental Institute. I need you to interview Dr. Sambo Lechter."
CHAPTER 3
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| Sambo Lechter |
An article in the Bismarck Bugle said his accomplishments would ensure his name would go into the annals of Black advancement. CNN was going to include him in it's special during Black History Month. He would be celebrated with such illustrious names as Lonnie Johnson, inventor of the Super Soaker, George Crum who invented the potato chip, Sarah Goode, who's invention of the folding bed forever changed society, Philip Downing whose ingenious invention of the mail box was deemed one of the most technological advances by an Afro-American and C.J. Walker who developed a dandruff shampoo.
The finest liquor available in Detroit flowed at these parties. There were kegs of 'Old English Malt Liquor' on tap and Lechtor would personally tap barrels of the 'Ripple', 'Thunderbird' and 'Night Train Express'.
The food was exquisite. All made with the culinary skills of Lechter himself. Huge platters of fried chicken smothered in a delicate sauce made from bacon drippings and Pepto-Bismol. Mountains of chitlins stuffed with a delectable mixture of hog jowls, cat fish and crackers. It was the 'crackers' that would lead to Lechter's downfall.
CHAPTER 4
Before sending Starling into the nuthouse to interview Lechter, Jack briefed her on the doctors troubling and disturbed past. Lechter had been the consultant for the FBI when members of the Detroit Philharmonic Orchestra began to mysteriously disappear. The first member to go missing was Ikzak Goldstien, the Lead Kazoo player with the orchestra. A month later, Borak Wozniak III went missing. He was one Poland's finest and most gifted music proteges.
His grandfather, Reich Marshal Borak Wozniak, was the entertainment director at Treblinka Concentration Camp. He organized many of the prisoners of the camp into bands to entertain the troops on R & R. Wozniak was a huge fan of Blues' singers Leadbelly and Blind Willy Johnson. This was reflected in two of the most popular bands in the camp-'Down Child Jews Band' and 'The Warsaw Wailers'. Both would have had bright futures in the recording industry if they hadn't been gassed.
CONTINUED TOMORROW
