Fuzzy Details

Fuzzy Details – New Book by MoonChimps Media

A young real estate investor has a chance to hit it big with a new building….until he runs into some Fuzzy Details! Sounds like a wild ride, huh? Check out what the Entertainment Industry is saying about Fuzzy Details

“Lemme know when you finish it and I’ll help proofread it.” -Mike D, standup comic and voice actor on MoonChimps

“If you actually write it that would be pretty nuts.” -Jim Giggity, motivational speaker and California-based writing assistant

“You got a pretty mouth, boy. Lemme- ” -Orta Rodriguez, self defence guru and sexual assault awareness activist

Chapter 1
Do you want the tour?

“Once we finish these smokes we’ll head inside.”

Jonny stared at the half inch of grey ash attached to the cigar as he finished his sentence. He always thought it was kind of magical how the ash could cling to the cigar.

Jonny was standing in the small parking lot of his small condo building. It was small, but it was his building. Actually, he partnered with his lawyer 20 – 80, but for someone who had a net worth under $15,000 for most of his life, besides the last 12 years of grinding, he felt pretty goddamn good.

Jonny was standing in the parking lot with two of his friends, Jim Giggity and Orta Rodriguez. He had met them way back in his twenties, when they were in the US Navy together. After his first enlistment contract was up, Jonny chose to move on to computer programming and real estate. The three pals still stayed in touch through the years, meeting up when they could, and sharing a steady stream of memes when they couldn’t. This Friday afternoon, the boys were back in town, so to speak. Since getting out of the military, Jonny had spent most of his time in the Las Vegas area. He liked the neon energy and the youthful confidence the city attracted, absorbed, and radiated. His buds Giggity and Orta also liked the Las Vegas area for it’s gambling and brothels. It had become the HQ for most of their drunken adventures, and Jonny always tried to one up himself every year by being a better and better host. This year, with his small condo building almost open to the public, he took three of the better units and prepared them for himself and his buds. The building itself was unique. It tried to catch the “tiny home” wave, providing small, affordable units to young working professionals. And for the most part, it succeeded. Of the 36 units they built, 12 units over three floors, 29 were already presold. The aspect that made the building truly unique, was that it was underground. It was suprisingly easy to get the permits involved, and it got the building featured in some local magazines and daytime TV.

“Alright,” Jonny announced to the group as he put his cigar out in the ashtray stand.

“Lemme give you boys the grand tour. Or as they say in Quebec, the Tour de France.”

Giggity lightly tossed his cigar in the bowl of the ashtray without putting it out and said with a smile, “You can’t trick us, Canadian. French is for nerds anyways.”

Orta acted like an adult and did the responsbile thing, putting Giggity’s cigar out and then his own. He slowly said, “Hot nerds. Some French girls are so hot, they’d burn you just like these cigars.”

Orta always said stupid gibberish shit like that, but to be honest, anytime the three amigos were in the same room, they always said stupid shit. No one had a comeback, so Orta continued to pile on.

“You know Giggity, you’re just mad because France ruled Ireland for all those years.”

Despite being 4th Generation American, Giggity still had an attachment to his great grandfather’s immigration story. He came by boat from Ireland to New York, and got a job “at the docks”. An Irish immigrant doing manual labor, pretty fascinating story, huh?

Giggity was a man of average height, with sophisticated tastes. As an anti-hipster born in the cultural hub of New Jersey, he stood out by listening to Frank Sinatra and acting in musicals like Grease. He was a charming son of a gun, with an array of sound effects he could deploy quickly, the ability to jump into impressions seamlessly, and the apt memory to perfectly parrot lines from niche Youtube videos. He had baby-blues eyes he used to woo women, and a daper-enough wardrobe to accompany them.He was a little bit of a ladies man.

Following his illustrious career of unloading trucks at a factory in New Jersey, he got his start in the military as a mechanic, and after a bit of a wait, moved up the food chain to being a helicopter pilot. Orta on the other hand was a gentle giant, 6’2, 200lbs of friendliness. (describe Orta)

With the cigars all extinguished, the boys headed inside the main entrance. The lobby was large and somewhat snazzy, reminiscent of a $149 hotel, and not some shitty $59 one. It had lights hanging from the ceiling that some interior designer had picked and they looked nice. There floor was white tile that also looked nice, and a little shiny. While Jonny’s wife had agreed with most of the design choices and steered them in the direction to attract buyers, Jonny had a hard time caring about what it looked like.

Directly in front of the amigos, was a well polished grey steel elevator that could bring them three floors down to the rooms Jonny had prepared, as well as a hardwood door to a staircase that could do the same thing. Jonny stopped the group before they could enter the elevator, and excitedly pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“Before we can go underground….” Jonny trailed off with a big grin, attempting to build suspense. “Before we can go underground….we have to go to the future!”

Jonny showed Giggity and Orta an app on his phone, which could control all the hallway speakers as well as the speakers in the elevator. It took a minute to load which killed some of the suspense, but fuck it, they were having a good time. Once it loaded, Jonny pressed play on his favorite Synthwave playlist, and the glorious electronic sounds resonated through the building.

Hearing the good tunes, Orta started aggressively fingering the button for the elevator. After three seconds of rapid movement, he tilted his head up to the ceiling and let out a loud moan that started quietly but became even louder than the music. It was half moan and half screaming. “AhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!”

Giggity was used to Orta’s shenanighans after the years of being friends. Giggity tried to shout over the loud moan. “You really like that elevator button, huh?”

On a normal man it would’ve worked, but Orta had absorbed so many youtube videos and memes during his youth, his willingness to push the envelope was on par with Steve-O from his Jackass days. Orta took Giggity’s words, and reverses them to continue to be loud and annoying. “Yeah I do!” Orta said sharply, his neck becoming rigid, some veins and his throat becoming visible. Orta pretended to spit on his right hand, and pretended to rub it throughly on his imaginary dick, coating it in spontaneous lube. Then Orta pretended to grab the elevator button by it’s imaginary hair, and roughly guided it’s imaginary head to his crotch.

“I like this elevator button a lot.” Orta spit the words through his teeth, starting to breathe heavily.

“Big Papi Orta likes this slutty little button.”

The “joke” had gone on for a over a minute and the guys were getting a little uncomfortable, but honestly Orta pretended to fuck things everyday for as long as they could remember, so they were pretty used to seeing it. The spectacle ended with the elevator doors opening. Giggity and Jonny awkwardly sidestepped around Orta, and walked into the elevator.

Orta was pretending to hold the elevator button’s hair in his left hand, and at a steady tempo fuck the elevator button’s mouth. Seeing his friends standing unamused in the elevator, Orta pretended to pull his imaginary dick out of the elevator button’s mouth, and pretended to start choking it with his right hand, pretending to slightly raise it’s head.

“You’re going to remember Orta.” He told the elevator button. He pretended the elevator button was squirming, so the pretended to grab the elevator button’s throat with both hands. “You’re gonna remember Big Papi Orta.” This was a full two minutes into the “joke”, and the elevator doors started to close. This caught Orta’s eye and quickly jumped up, snapped back to normal, and dashed into the elevator. “Fuck, sorry guys. Sometimes I get a little carried away.” There was a little glisten of sweat on Orta forehead near his hairline. With the elevator doors closed, and Orta’s spectacle over, the amigos could hear the both the quietness of the building, and the steady beat of the Synthwave. As Jonny pressed L3 on the panel, the amigos felt a wave of freedom, as they were in only ones in the whole building on a Friday afternoon, and would be the only ones there until Monday when someone would show up.

They stood quietly in the elevator, kind of turning their brains off until the elevator stopped at the 3rd floor underground with a chunk-chunk sound. The doors slowly opened, their brains turned back on, and they walked into the well-lit hallway, which was bumping the same Synthwave playlist as the elevator. It was a U shaped layout, with a left hallway and a right hallway. The rooms Jonny had prepared were in the left hallway.

He pulled three white magnetic swipe cards out of his pocket, and handed two to his buds. “Room twenty eight, and room twenty nine.” He said in a sing-song voice, being silly. Giggity deepened his voice for an impression of a generic old-man pervert and said “More like sixty-nine, know what I’m sayin’! ‘Bout to beat the hell out of my meat, y’know what I’m sayin’!” Giggity raised his hand for a high five and Orta slapped it enthusiasitly, and then Giggity spun on his left heel and put his hand slightly behind his back at waist level, palm facing up. Even though it was a really lame joke, Jonny still gave him the second high five, because that’s what real friends do.

Before Giggity and Orta could enter their rooms and (assumedly) beat the hell out of their meat, Jonny stopped walking and said, “I should probably tell you guys, there’s no wifi or phone service in here yet. We’re still waiting on the telecomms guys to come install the routers and shit.” Orta “pretended” to be a horny, angry gorilla. He started stomping his feet, shaking his arms above his head, and shouting “Orta need porno! Orta need porno!”

Jonny adjusted his tie and uncompassionately replied, “If you need porn that bad, go use your data in the parking lot.” Orta stayed in character as a horny, angry gorilla and started headbutting the walls of the hallway. “Orta need porno!” He shouted over and over again. “Orta need porno!”

All of a sudden, the potted plants in the hallway rocked back and forth and the floor shook. Bits of dust fell from the ceiling. It only lasted about ten seconds, but they definitely experienced a minor earthquake. “Orta, fuck off!” Giggity scolded, some spittle getting caught in his excellent mustache. Orta stopped his headbutting to assess the situation quicky, moved his head on a swivel, and then continued headbutting the wall.

“Orta need porno! Orta need porno! Earthquake gods, give me porno!”

Jonny turned towards the stairs and waved Orta down the hallway to his room. “Alright Orta, give it a rest. Since no one has reception down here, I gotta head back up to the parking lot to call the elevator company. The new elevators always freeze up after an earthquake.”

Once those words left Jonny’s mouth, the three amigos heard a peculiar digging sound. It sounded like drywall crumbling, slowly. It sounded like rats were chewing tunnels just behind the drywall. “Son of a bitch, this place just got built, how does it already have rats…” Jonny let his words trail off. After years of unclogging tenants’ toilets, he hoped his maintenance headaches were over with this much more expensive building. He hadn’t had a single tenant move in yet, and there were already rats. Does he fumigate? Set traps? He had never even dealt with rats before. He would google it, but no one had reception since they left the main floor. Orta put his right hand to his right ear with his elbow at ninety degrees, and leaned towards the wall, listening to the rats Hulk Hogan style.

“This might fuck up our partying a little bit, but I’ll call a pest control place once I get off the phone with the insurance place and get a quote. Fuck.” Jonny and his partner had kept a good chunk of money set aside for maintenance, but still, it was expensive and annoying. As Jonny, started walking towards the stairs, Orta started slapping the wall to….intimidate the rats? Scare them away? Orta didn’t say why he was doing it, he was just doing it because he’s Orta. If he’s not finger-fucking an elevator button, he’s picking (highly entertaining) fights with walls.

“Come on out and fight me like a man!” Orta screamed at the wall.

“If you think this wall is gonna save you, you got another thing comin’ ! I’ll chew through this wall and eat you alive, Mickey Mouse. Or should I say Mortimer….I’m the big cat! I’m El Gato!”

Once the words “El Gato” rang through the air, and reverberated down the hallway, a tiny crack appeared in the surface of the wall, followed by another dark line, and another. A small spiderweb of cracks slowly drew themselves on the wall, accompanied by a steady crunch of the rats either digging through the wall, or eating a big box of fruit loops. The three amigos all stared at the compromised wall, frozen in place. Orta had remained still and silent while the cracks appeared.

Jonny paused the Synthwave playlist and the whole building became as frozen as they were. Tiny pieces of drywall quitely rolled down the wall as whatever was behind the wall slowly maneuvered around. After 15 seconds of silence, Jonny started walking down the hall. Accustomed to always being busy, the stillness and silence made him uncomfortable.

He decided to grab a broom from the janitor’s closet, to sweep up whatever mess the stupid rats were going to leave on the floor. The janitor’s closet was halfway between the amigos’ rooms, and the elevator. They passed it on the way in. You could tell it was the janitor’s closet, because it was a boring steel door that had a plastic plaque with the text “Janitor’s Closet”. Jonny swung the door open, squinted in without turning on the light, grabbed a full-size broom, and closed the door. He started walking back to the gang, spinning the broom around his arms and body like bo staff. In his mind he looked as badass as Neo in the Matrix Reloaded.

“Alrighty, time to sweep sweep sweep, clean up these streets knawmsayin.” Jonny started lazily pushing the dirt around with the push broom. He grabbed the broom to clean, but honestly, he was also a little scared of the mice behind the wall. Like, were they cute little mice, or were they big fat rats with gross teeth? He needed a broom just in case he needed to beat a gross rat to death. Just as Jonny got the drywall dust into a neat little pile, an enormous, 2-foot tall crashed through the cracked wall, flying through the air with a huge cloud of drywall dust billowing from the two foot hole it left behind. Before Jonny could react with his broom to shoo it away, the enormous rat, standing on his back two legs, jumped at Orta and sunk it’s 2-inch long fangs into his left forearm. Once the fangs were securely sunk into Orta’s arm, the rat refused to let go, and clung to his forearm weightlessly the same way the ash had clung to Jonny’s cigar outside. Once the milisecond of shock had passed, Orta’s brain registered the massive amount of pain throbbing in his arm.

Two things happened, his eyesight faded to tunnel vision (either from adrenaline or blood loss, maybe both), and then he started screaming. Once he was screaming at the top of his lungs, he started running. He sprinted to the end of the hallway, the creature swinging and dangling off his forearm.

With surprising calmness, he stopped in front of room 28 and pulled the white magnetic swipe card out of his pocket with his right arm. He inserted it into the card reader, saw the green light, and then moved his right hand to the grey metal door handle, turning it and bumping open the door with his right shoulder. As the door swung open with momentum, he swung his left forearm up, creature dangling by its fangs, into the left wall just past the doorway. The creature lightly bounced off the wall, unharmed. It was harmed, however, when Orta grabbed the door handle with his right hand and slammed the door shut on the creature’s neck.

“Go to sleep bitch!” He shouted at the creature. “Die motherfucker die!”

The creature let out a low grunt sound when it was hit, and that was enough to motivate Orta into a Berzerker frenzy. Either that, or it was the throbbing pain pulsing through his entire arm, all the way into his chest. The whites of Orta’s eyes bulged out of his skull as his bloodlust was triggered. He swung the door open without letting go of the handle, and before the door went more than a foot, he slammed it shut on the creature again. And again. A steady trickle of blood started dribbling down the creature’s neck, and it finally released it’s grip on Orta’s forearm, dropping to the floor like a wet rag.

Orta slammed the door on it again. And again. And again. A small pool of blood formed around the rat creature. Jonny and Giggity ran up to the rat creature to get a better look. It was approximately 2 feet tall, covered head to toe in dusty, dirty fur.

“Jesus fucking Christ, it’s a mole person.”

—End of Chapter 1—–

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-MoonChimps Media