Gather ye round children and I shall recite to ye a tail of pure terror... Ye! A tail in which we see the young Polar Bear Chieftain, Zoidberg attempt to solve a series of sinister murders! So listen, if you dare, to the gruesome goings on in a little fable I call "Zoidberg's attempt to solve a series of gruesome murders!"
"The King is dead! Long live the king!" These words echoed around the walls of the Brotherhood’s citadel and in the hearts of its citizens. The good doctor Alex C Hale had declared Truelies to be deceased and solemnly took his place as commander of the Brotherhood. It was not, However, a time to celebrate. A maid had come across the body Truelies when doing her rounds. Her screams had brought guards running from all over the citadel. The alarm was raised and medics were called, but it was to late. Truelies had died. The peculiar thing was that not a scratch was found on him, there was no evidence of poisoning and Truelies had been in his prime, as fit as a fiddle, so it certainly wasn’t natural causes. Truelies’ door had been locked tight, only opened by the maid, and the citadel teemed with Muffin soldiers. It seemed like an impregnable fortress. Posses had been sent in all directions to search for the killer, and bounties were put on the heads of known villains and enemies of the Brotherhood. The Witch Hunters had their hands full. These were fruitless efforts however, as no evidence led back to the murder. Assassination attempts had always been a common occurrence. First thing in the morning and last thing at night, Truelies would yawn, stretch and fire a few magnum rounds into his clothes cupboard. More often than not the corpse of a waiting clown or Onion assassin, all clad in black, would tumble out. It was costing him a fortune in cupboard doors. Somehow, someone had managed to kill him, but whom? Who was brave or foolhardy enough to commit such an act? All clown and Onion resistance in the area had been crushed. The culprit who had committed the atrocity, the unbelievably inhumane act must have come from the inside. The Brotherhood smelt a rat. Their authorities were stumped, and they needed the best detective they knew to solve the mystery. So they travelled north…
(Boy, this story is kind of a downer isn’t it? Maybe I should lighten things up…)
“Hello!” Zoidberg’s greeting was surprisingly cheerful, considering the occurrences. “Now I’ve called you all here to the Accusing Parlour because someone in this room is a big scary murderer!!!” The Brotherhood gasped in unison. Every senior member had been called for questioning. Alex, the new ruler of the Brotherhood, Gimpy, Mightysage and Bengl of course, Fenrir had been coaxed from the woods to join the ensemble, King George with his loyal Witch Hunter by his side, various knights like Neil and Calum stood by, whilst Ogglesby and Ashton served drinks. Even Mr Shrimpy was forced to cancel dinner plans to show up. Zoidberg certainly meant business. He wore his infamous Sherlock Holmes hat and carried his spyglass.
The Accusing Parlour was an old tradition of the Brotherhood. It was like a cross between a vampire’s boudoir and one of the rooms from the Cluedo game. The log fire crackled, George’s hunting dogs lazed obediently by their master’s knee, and a portrait of Mr Shrimpy in a Napoleon outfit glared down at the occupants of the room. The various gentry of the Brotherhood sipped cocktails and puffed fine Cuban cigars, while Zoidberg strutted up and down before the suspects. “Now let us go through the evidence” Zoidberg continued. “Truelies’ body was found seemingly untouched. He was still warm, implying that he died mere moments before the maid found him”. “How’s she taking it?” Interrupted Bengl. “What?”
“How is the maid handling the experience?” “Oh she’s fine” Zoidberg replied. I believe her husband runs a rather successful carpet fitting industry”. “Well that’s just super” said Bengl, satisfied.
“Anyway” Zoidberg went on. “Authorities tell me we have no clues, and no suspects of any kind. Which is why I accuse Ogglesby!” He thrust a finger at the startled creature. The Brotherhood gasped again. “My dear Zoidberg” Alex stood up. His top hat and monocle shook with the sudden movement. “It could not have possibly been Ogglesby, as at the time of the murder I was using him as a human punch bag. He has an alibi.” The Brotherhood hummed and nodded in agreement at the thought of using Ogglesby as a human punch bag. “Well in that case I think we should call it a night and reschedule for next week. Unless of course… it was Calum!!!”
“Meeting adjourned” Said Alex flatly.
In the week that followed, other members of the Brotherhood met mysterious deaths:
1. Mightysage was found hanging upside down form a tree, his body entirely drained of blood. He had two teeth marks in his neck and a look of petrified horror on his face. Authorities concluded the cause of death to be suicide.
2. Fenrir was beaten to death with a herring. Zoidberg said this was terrible, as Fenrir had always been allergic to fish.
3. The Witch Hunter was trapped in a coffin and buried alive. Most people said he got what he deserved.
4. Mr Shrimpy was mercilessly butchered and served up with lemon sauce. Authorities say he tasted delicious.
5. Neil was found a twisted and gibbering wreck in his room. The poor sod had been forced to listen to the David Boring album “the acoustic years”. He died soon afterwards.
6. Calum was found with a bullet in his head, a gun in hand and a note explaining how he couldn’t go on in life. Authorities concluded to cause of death to be a vampire.
7.Ashton got it the worst of all. By the time they found him, he was unrecognisable. Horribly mutilated and disfigured, he looked a mess. And it wasn’t a quick death either. Tormented by the pain and his own self loathing, he suffered terribly for hours before the end came.
Seven members of the Brotherhood had died, one for each day of the week.
The now terrified remaining members of the Brotherhood met again in the Accusing Parlour, without a fuss. Safety in numbers, they thought. Zoidberg rose when his hysterical guests had finally settled down. “Gentlemen, please. Panicking will get us nowhere”. Heavy rain pounded against the window. Thunder rumbled overhead, and in the dead of night, a lone wolf howled, mourning the death of its mate. “Now after a series of threats and interrogations, I believe I have sufficient evidence to convict the killer. I believe it was Kernel Mustard, in the Lounge, with the Candlestick”. Alex smashed the Cluedo board aside. “Damn it, Zoidberg this is no time for…” He didn’t even have time to finish his sentence, as the door slowly creaked open… Lightening crackled overhead, and the Brotherhood screamed in terror as Truelies stumbled into the room, a mad look in his eye. The Brotherhood drew what weapons they had (Ogglesby wielded a toilet brush) to face the dirt-encrusted interloper (he had been buried, after all). “Brothers, fear not, I am alive!” Truelies stood before his friends. “That’s what Granny said!” screeched Ogglesby as he lunged with his toilet brush, only to be knocked aside by the power lord. “That’s impossible” breathed Alex “I checked you’re pulse, you were dead!” Truelies chuckled, “Oh you big silly goose, I wasn’t dead, I was just asleep!” The Brotherhood all had a good, long laugh. Bengl stopped suddenly. “Hang on a minute, what about the other seven mysterious deaths?” At that moment, Mightysage, Fenrir, the Witch Hunter, Mr Shrimpy, Neil and Calum all burst in laughing. “Silly geese, we were sleeping to!” They giggled together. “Where’s Ashton, then?” Inquired George half-heartedly, not caring much. The Witch Hunter twiddled his thumbs. “Well, err… he kinda is dead… we had a bit of a… a falling out. “Well I believe it’s for the best” laughed Alex. Everyone agreed.
“Well, whilst we’re all here, let the party begin!” roared Truelies. The Brotherhood danced the night away with a funky roller disco. “Hey guys! Who wants nachos!?”
Yelled Ogglesby. Alex turned in horror, “Ogglesby, you idiot! Those aren’t nachos! Their grenades! And you’ve just pulled the pins!”
THE END