NAP: The Investigation

A/N: Takes place somewhere in Season 1 of Nack & Psycho.

Nack and Psycho: The Investigation

Inside an interrogation room, a man named LeFou looked around the room before noticing papers and books with stains along with the words "Help Meeeee" on the wall. He looked worried, then looked at the chainsaw on the ground.

LeFou: (worried) Ooooh...

The door opened up as in came a familiar face, whom closed the door, walked close to the suspect, and smoked his cigar. He then turned to his familiar comrades.

Boss: Nack, Psy, hold him down!

The two saluted, grabbing the arms of the victim as he yelped, being glared at by the fat leader in suit with sunglasses.

Boss: (glares) You sick son of a monkey's ginger half brother.

He yelped, looking fearful.

Boss: (frowns) Yesterday, May 25 at the hard shelter into the defiled exclamant covert corpse survelient of LS 83 in 7th by an electric overtin overplacement that of a goat was found at the wheel of an overturn school bus filled with burning paripledgic orphans.

He shivered and slumped down more.

Boss: (turns away) The man of your eyes, stature, and haircolor was reported at the scene wearing a dim suit with crotches and totally dull trousers, eating a tiller and sweet corn sound which all was at the same time.

LeFou looked palely as he felt sick.

Boss: (goes close to him) Sodemizing the bus.

He swallowed his barf while coughing a bit.

Psycho: This is boring. When is it my turn to torture this stupid short piggy?

Nack: We told you, Psy. Only when A. it's just me and you interrogating and B. on Don's orders.

Psycho: I don't see why you and fatty have to do these things to make me annoyed, Woozle Boy.

The two, in anger, slapped Psycho in the air.

Psycho: WHEEEEE!

Boss: One more ass remark like that and you're next.

Psycho: (lands) Geez, okay, Mr. Touchy! So shall we hit him with a mallet or a pony?

Nack: We will worried about animal abuse after this interrogation is over.

Then the door opened with the lights turning on as a familiar cockroach making a tray of drinks levitate arrived.

Carl: Okay, let's see now. There's the tea, root beer, some sugar and eggnog. And a cupcake that's nice and hot just the way you like it, guys. Glorious with a cherry pie baked well do for being such a good-

Weasels: (snaps) Shut it, Carl!

Psycho: No one cares what you think, roach!

Carl: (frowns) Hey, I paid for it, at least give me credit.

Psycho: Are you sure we couldn't get Wolf Man in this?

Nack: He's on another case. And unfortunately, we're stuck with the moron.

Psycho: But I'm right here.

Boss: No, no! You're the psychotic freakshow with the razor. Carl is the moron!

Carl: Well I never! Uh what's going on here exactly?

Boss: Idiot, (puffs his cigar) I'm trying to establish an ambience in here!

Carl: Yeeesh, sorry, Donnie. Yeeah, don't mind me. Carry on.

He started fiddling with the items, annoying the weasel trio. Then, Carl took out a tape recorder, turning it on as he read the reports.

Carl: Let's see today is Monday. The time is 10:15. The weather is also cloudy.

The trio groaned with Don's smokes coming out of his nostrils.

Carl: Some sunny spells and-

Psycho: (growls) CAAARL!!

He pounced to the roach, tackling him down with Nack snatching the recorder, then smashed it.

Carl: Hey! I paid 5 bucks for that.

Nack: You stole it from Mr. Nervous the other day.

Carl: (crosses his arms) That doesn't prove anything.

Nack held up the recorder that had the labeled 'Property of Mr. Nervous'.

Nack: You were saying?

Boss: That's better. (to LeFou) Now that we're off the record, you're going away for an overly long time. He's guilty, boys. Take him to the clink!

Weasels: (salutes) Right, boss.

Carl: Uh I don't know, boys.

Nack: It's all in the eyes, Carl. I can see those screaming retards burned into the back of his retina.

Carl: Uh some of them don't like being called "retards". They prefer to be called "Mentally challenged" or "Autistic" or even "aspherger".

Psycho: (scoffs) And the Beverly Hillbillies are preferred to be called 'Children of the Sun' but that ain't going to happen!

LeFou: But don't I-

Boss: (slams the table) Shut your biscuit hole! Your necter's dead now, vermin!

He slapped LeFou a bit.

Psycho: Aww, I wanted to slap him.

Boss: Be my guest, boys.

Nack: (smirks) With pleasure.

The two weasels slapped him as well.

Psycho: Hey, this DOES feel good.

Carl: (frowns) When do I get a turn?

The cockroach yelps as the two weasel slaps him.

Nack: Feel better?

Boss: (to LeFou) Now I have a question for you...(walks around him) how do you feel, about eating your food from a tin plate with a plastic baby spoon for the rest of your life?

Nack: Or having a fully grown man curl up to you in the middle of the night and calling you "Shelly"!

Carl, looking interested, wrote some notes.

Boss: Or have a cell mate take a dive right in front of you like the smell of his curried whatsit loitering in the air. There'll be no Febreeze where YOU'LL be going, candy ass!

Psycho: Yeah, asswipe or dropping the soap and you getting raped in the ass!

Boss: No, ick! Honestly, Psycho, where did you get that?!

Psycho: I've heard that it happened on America's Most Wanted!

Carl: Yeah! Yeah, you um...sick man. You just tell us where the diamonds are and we'll let you go...or bribe us.

The trio slapped their foreheads in annoyance.

Carl: Either way, we're not leaving without loot.

Nack: Carl, that's our 2 o'clock AKA Ratigan. This is our 10 o'clock, the coach poker, remember?

Carl looked at the schedule that appeared, glancing.

Carl: Uh actually, this is our 11 o'clock. He really came in to settle an outstanding parking form. He-he...

Psycho: (realizes) Oooooh, I got our schedules and people mixed up again, didn't I?

Nack: (dryly) Nooo, you think?

The fat weasel groaned, glancing back at LeFou.

Boss: Ugh, pay your fine and piss off! Give him that pie piece. Next!

Psycho: Wait, what happened to our 10 o'clock.

Carl: He cancelled because you chased him off with an axe.

Psycho: Hey, he crossed the line right after lusting for Sarah!

The End