Gentry Investigations

Anita Blake Parody by Bungluna

Summer had marched in like a paratrooper, ready to take no prisoners and win the day. The air conditioner in my house had been on the fritz for several days, so I had found it imperative to get rid of all the weres sharing my bed. After all, having all these heat-generating bodies around in winter is one thing, but during a heat wave, no way.

It had taken some maneuvering, but I had finally convinced Nathaniel to go spend the weekend with Detective Jessica Arnet. Being a policewoman, she certainly could be assertive enough for his taste, or so I hoped. I thought it would do him good to have a normal sexual relationship, one based on lust and handcuffs, not on the ardeur and feeding his Nimir-Ra.

Micah and I were just settling down in bed that Sunday night. He was going to read “Put Me in the Zoo” that night; I had been looking forward to this all week. I was wearing my favorite Connan Doyle nightshirt and hugging Sigmund for added comfort. When the phone rang, my first instinct was to let the answering machine pick up.

“Don’t answer that,” I said to Micah, holding on to his wrist to keep him from reaching for the bedside phone.

“Why not?” he said. “Are you afraid of bad news?”

Afraid, who me? The telephone kept ringing persistently.

“You know you will not be able to settle down unless you find out what’s going on, Anita,” he said with a quizzical smile

“Okay, okay, give me the damn phone. But on your head be it!” I reached for the receiver and grunted, “Hello? Whassup?”

I could hear a lot of weeping and wailing in the background, then the voice of Jamil came on.

“Anita, we have a situation,” he said in a strained whisper. “We need help. We may even need to use your big tub.”

“What now,” said I in exasperation. It seemed to me that every time I was settling in to have a quiet evening at home, some catastrophe befell some group under my protection. If it wasn’t the vamps, it was the weres or the police. There’s no rest for the Executioner.

“It’s Richard,” said Jamil. “His beloved Mustang convertible wouldn’t start up this morning. He’s been working all day trying to fix it, to no avail. Then he couldn’t find a mechanic to come look at it today.” Jamil’s voice had taken an undertone of desperation. “I’m afraid he will go into a steep decline if we don’t find someone to fix his car soon,” he hissed.

I could hear some howling going on now. Being surrounded by males in both my private and professional life, I had learned some things about boys and their toys, but this was ridiculous!

“You mean Richard is going into a depression because his car broke down?” I asked incredulously.

“Not just his car, his Mustang!” replied Jamil in an affronted tone.

“Don’t tell me Richard’s Mustang has broken down!” exclaimed Micah by my side. I sometimes forgot what good ears the weres had. You couldn’t have a private phone conversation when they were in the room.

“Yeah, yeah. It appears to have broken down,” I told him irritably. “What’s the big deal?”

“You don’t understand these things, Anita.” I had never heard this pained tone in Micah’s voice. “It’s a classic Mustang!”

I still didn’t get it. I mean, you didn’t catch me making a big deal out of every time some preternatural meany totaled my car. Still and all, though, I saw an opportunity here to accomplish something positive. That’s me, a “glass half-full” kind of gal.

“Why don’t you go fix Richard’s car, Micah?” I said with an innocent expression. “You are a good mechanic, aren’t you?” I let a little doubt slip into my voice. I was becoming better at this reverse psychology shit while dealing with my men. A girl almost had to, to handle as many stubborn males as I had hanging around!

“I’m a very good mechanic!” exclaimed Micah. “I could have that baby running in no time!”

All this time, Jamil had been strangely quiet on the other side of the line. “Do you know what you are doing, Anita?” he whispered.

I thought I did. Get Richard and Micah to have a male bonding experience under the hood of a classical Mustang and maybe they would learn to coexist. I mean, Richard would be grateful when Micah fixed his car, right? And Micah would get his jollies out of working on that wonderful Mustang. It seemed a perfect set-up. A girl could always hope.

“It’s all set, Jamil” I spoke into the phone. “Micah will be right over and he will fix the car. He even has the right tools for the job.”

“I hope you know what you are doing, Anita.” Jamil abruptly hung up the phone.

I certainly hoped so. I would get Richard back on the road and get my bed all to myself during the worst heat wave in memory. Seemed like a good deal to me.


	Anita Blake Parody by Bungluna Chapter 1 \| Next Chapter Summer had marched in like a paratrooper, ready to take no prisoners and win the day. The air conditioner in my house had been on the fritz for several days, so I had found it imperative to get rid of all the weres sharing my bed. After all, having all these heat-generating bodies around in winter is one thing, but during a heat wave, no way. It had taken some maneuvering, but I had finally convinced Nathaniel to go spend the weekend with Detective Jessica Arnet. Being a policewoman, she certainly could be assertive enough for his taste, or so I hoped. I thought it would do him good to have a normal sexual relationship, one based on lust and handcuffs, not on the ardeur and feeding his Nimir-Ra. Micah and I were just settling down in bed that Sunday night. He was going to read “Put Me in the Zoo” that night; I had been looking forward to this all week. I was wearing my favorite Connan Doyle nightshirt and hugging Sigmund for added comfort. When the phone rang, my first instinct was to let the answering machine pick up. “Don’t answer that,” I said to Micah, holding on to his wrist to keep him from reaching for the bedside phone. “Why not?” he said. “Are you afraid of bad news?” Afraid, who me? The telephone kept ringing persistently. “You know you will not be able to settle down unless you find out what’s going on, Anita,” he said with a quizzical smile “Okay, okay, give me the damn phone. But on your head be it!” I reached for the receiver and grunted, “Hello? Whassup?” I could hear a lot of weeping and wailing in the background, then the voice of Jamil came on. “Anita, we have a situation,” he said in a strained whisper. “We need help. We may even need to use your big tub.” “What now,” said I in exasperation. It seemed to me that every time I was settling in to have a quiet evening at home, some catastrophe befell some group under my protection. If it wasn’t the vamps, it was the weres or the police. There’s no rest for the Executioner. “It’s Richard,” said Jamil. “His beloved Mustang convertible wouldn’t start up this morning. He’s been working all day trying to fix it, to no avail. Then he couldn’t find a mechanic to come look at it today.” Jamil’s voice had taken an undertone of desperation. “I’m afraid he will go into a steep decline if we don’t find someone to fix his car soon,” he hissed. I could hear some howling going on now. Being surrounded by males in both my private and professional life, I had learned some things about boys and their toys, but this was ridiculous! “You mean Richard is going into a depression because his car broke down?” I asked incredulously. “Not just his car, his Mustang!” replied Jamil in an affronted tone. “Don’t tell me Richard’s Mustang has broken down!” exclaimed Micah by my side. I sometimes forgot what good ears the weres had. You couldn’t have a private phone conversation when they were in the room. “Yeah, yeah. It appears to have broken down,” I told him irritably. “What’s the big deal?” “You don’t understand these things, Anita.” I had never heard this pained tone in Micah’s voice. “It’s a classic Mustang!” I still didn’t get it. I mean, you didn’t catch me making a big deal out of every time some preternatural meany totaled my car. Still and all, though, I saw an opportunity here to accomplish something positive. That’s me, a “glass half-full” kind of gal. “Why don’t you go fix Richard’s car, Micah?” I said with an innocent expression. “You are a good mechanic, aren’t you?” I let a little doubt slip into my voice. I was becoming better at this reverse psychology shit while dealing with my men. A girl almost had to, to handle as many stubborn males as I had hanging around! “I’m a very good mechanic!” exclaimed Micah. “I could have that baby running in no time!” All this time, Jamil had been strangely quiet on the other side of the line. “Do you know what you are doing, Anita?” he whispered. I thought I did. Get Richard and Micah to have a male bonding experience under the hood of a classical Mustang and maybe they would learn to coexist. I mean, Richard would be grateful when Micah fixed his car, right? And Micah would get his jollies out of working on that wonderful Mustang. It seemed a perfect set-up. A girl could always hope. “It’s all set, Jamil” I spoke into the phone. “Micah will be right over and he will fix the car. He even has the right tools for the job.” “I hope you know what you are doing, Anita.” Jamil abruptly hung up the phone. I certainly hoped so. I would get Richard back on the road and get my bed all to myself during the worst heat wave in memory. Seemed like a good deal to me.