11th Part of the Murder Mystery That Jake Smith and Jared Seale Are Writing

Gary the P and Calara slunk off to the closest New Balance store which was located some 200 miles outside of Springfield (or whatever town they were in). Upon entering the store, they were told to leave by security as it was now 1 AM. Never to be hindered, however, the two made camp outside the store where they would continue their investigation come the time that the sun rises from the western sky. Meanwhile, the two decided to have a talk in their tent which they had the entire trip... I swear.

"Calarara, thank you so much for helping me achieve my destony," Gary the P said with a slight hint of a lisp.

Ignoring his unfortunate verbal mispelling of the word destiny for the umpteenth time, Calara responded. However, there is no record of what she said at this point.



"Oh wow! That's amazing! I can't believe that you would be so lucky! That's the most awesome thing you've ever told me!" Gary the P enthusiastically responded. The writer apologizes for the lack of records. "So do you think we're gonna catch Hubert?" he might have possibly continued.

"Of course it's possible! Anything is possible, P-Boy (Calara's new nickname for Gary the P)," she said trying to maintain a straight face at the mention of her obnoxious new nickname, her idea of revenge.

"Cool name!" Gary the P-Boy frothed.

Calara wanted to beat her head against a wall. Sadly, she was in a tent and the walls were made of fabric.

"Calara, I have a confession to make," Gary the P started.

She might have pooped.

"I really hate that nickname," he finally said in a caustic tone.

But she didn't poop. She sighed for what seemed like an hour, because it was, in fact, a 60 minute sigh.

Eventually the two alley-ooped off to sleep and morning awakened them several hours later.

"COCKADOODLEDOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Gary the P whispered into Calara's ear as the sunlight didn't enter the black tent. It was the start of a new day! And on this day, the investigation was sure to take shape. Slowly, the two emerged from the tent only to find that the New Balance store was gone! And in its place was a large crater in the ground.

"Whoa! Where'd it go?!" Gary the P ranted.

"GARY THE P! The store has been blown up!!! How could we have slept through this?!?!?!" she fretted maniacally.

"More importantly," Gary the P began, but he didn't finish.

Calara waited patiently for Gary the P to continue, but eventually gave up and started to speak "We've got to-"

"This must be the work of Hubert!" Gary the P continued.

"Well, duh!" Calara gloated like a cranky duck.

At that moment, a blue Dodge minivan drove by being driven by a mother who was taking her young sons to school.

And then a black Ford Crown Victoria came speeding along and in the driver's seat were Jack and Franklin!

"Oh no! They've come for us! Come on, Gary the P, we've got to get out of here!" Calara shrieked. But it was already too late! Jack emerged from the driver's side door and Franklin soon followed after Jack got off his lap. The two began to steadily walk towards our heroes whilst wielding spear guns.

"Yo Yo! It be time fo' you ta surrender!" Franklin the Jew proclaimed. But our heroes knew what they must do! They had to run! They had to stop Hubert once and for all and end his reign of unholy terror! They turned and ran as fast as they could onto Gary the P's Land-Doo and sped off along the road. At the last second though, Jack fired off a spear that pierced Gary the P's ankle.With no time to lose, he continued piloting his craft until they were out of range, ignoring the pain. Calara swooned at her injured savior. Then she realized that Gary the P was unconscious with his hand gripping the throttle tightly. After unswooning, Calara ripped Gary the P's hand off the throttle and steered the Land-Doo to safety in a back alley. She pulled Gary the P off and dragged him off to a safe hiding spot. They were finally safe, but then, as if Satan were orchestrating this day, they were approached by a gang: The 200-miles-out-of-Springfield Mafia, led by the most dastardly scumbag to ever walk the face of the earth (except Hubert), Stan Devlin. He slowly reached into his pocket, and then Calara went black, joining Gary the P in unconsciousness (figuratively speaking, she didn't actually join him I suppose, as the two's minds are not connected and therefore wouldn't incorporate into a collective subconsciousness.)

TO BE CONTINUED BY JARED "BETTER WRITER" SEALE.