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From The Case Files of Grok, The Original Detective: Something Wicked This Way Lurches.

The glowing shards of rock started out as a large asteroid between Mars and Jupiter.*  The journey had whittled down the parent rock  but it was still of significance size when it broke up in earths atmosphere spawning hundreds of meteorites.  The destination of some had given birth to the Grok we met in the first chapter of this saga. The final destination of the rest had been unknown, until now.

Grok stared placidly out over the field of flowers that filled his view. Despite all of the beauty surrounding him he felt that something was amiss.  Oh sure , he had managed to either drive out or suppress the criminal element at his end of Cave Town. He was also slowly educating the local males in forms of seduction more sophisticated than the “club and drag”. This was no easy task. He was finding it impossible to come up with a smooth monosyllabic pick up line so in the meantime he turned his efforts into creating better cocktails and this was reaping rewards. He had recently concocted some fruity alcoholic punch that could be kept down long enough to create a buzz.

His current feelings of trepidation had nothing to do with business. The success he had on his end of town did not mean he would be running out of cases soon. His reputation had started to reach outside his community and he would have work for a long time to come. What bothered him was a feeling of impending doom that did not seem tethered to anything current in his life. Grok shook his head in an attempt to ignore the feeling for now and go on about his day.

*****

The trajectory that marked the path of the wayward meteorites had painted a streak beginning at the east end of Cave Town and continued across the bordering swamp to land upon Cave Town’s nearest neighbor Unibrow Village. Unibrow Village was much like Cave Town other than the latter’s discovery that two brows are better than one.

Throg had tracked down the beast that would be his lunch, dinner and tomorrows breakfast to the edge of the swamp. Once the beast had mated, Throg would merely wait for it to sleep and then he would pounce. Throg was expected to share his bounty with the rest of the neighborhood but he was not a guy that shared, nurtured or cared about anyone else. That was the second to last thing that he remembered. The last was seeing some large glowing rocks coming towards him.

Throg woke up a few sunsets later at the edge of the swamp. He appeared not to have moved at all. No one in his village would have had the courage let alone the compassion to move him to shelter. He was not surprised nor did he care. What did surprise him was all of the new thoughts running through his brain. None of them were of the good variety and he liked it. It was as if the stagnant swamp water had seeped into his brain overnight bringing with it tiny microscopic life. His brain was now full of evil little cells teaching him new ways to get more for himself. They were screaming “organize”. Throg was beginning to get excited about newfound possibilities. Too bad none of those possibilities included the idea of  turning one eyebrow into two. It would do a lot for his self-image and perhaps he wouldn’t be so mean.

****

Grok lay awake in his cave unable to fall back to sleep. His day was long and somewhat fulfilling. He had ventured over to the west portion of Cave Town to mingle and make new contacts since he had helped most of the women on his side of town with their wayward men. In many of the cases the couple stayed together. In the cases where they had not, the women left town for a fresh start somewhere else.

Grok had hoped that at least one of the dames would have been impressed enough to spend some time with the hero detective. He was not sure where he got that crazy idea. He also wasn’t sure where he got the term “dames” or the term “detective”. It wasn’t as if there were any unrealistic stories out there full of dames falling all over the detective, yet.  He had an idea though that stories like that could be popular. Maybe when he was ready to give up his career he could pick up cave painting some detective stories. He was starting to like that word “detective” and it fit. It was better than “finder”.

His attempts  to flirt with some of the women he met on the west side were foiled by  his lack of smooth monosyllabic “come on” lines. That’s what he told himself anyway. Apparently the west side women still liked the bad boy silent type. Grok was confident that once they were introduced to the full awesomeness that was his charm and intellect they would warm up to him like a cup of joe on a hot fire. If only he knew what a cup of joe was.  Here, in his cave at two in the morning, Grok was hoping that the warm up process would not be too long. It was a bit cold. Suddenly a shiver ran down his spine and thoughts of loneliness were replaced by the feeling of impending doom. Grok did not fret too much about it though, he understood  fear. When it came to women , he had no clue.   He would deal with whatever doom lay ahead tomorrow. He began to relax and was soon welcoming the arrival of a deep sleep.

*Not that this information is of any benefit to the dwellers of Cave Town. They think stars are fireflies without wings. It does however give some nice background information for the reader.

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