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PHASE 2 HAS BEGUN. This is your ENTRY POST (the part that counts for the Sloth contest)

- Once again ANYONE can enter, please post if you are going for silver pumpkin seeds or Sloth
- Using the original setting provided AND the clues given in phase 1, please come to a conclusion as to what might have happened at this crime scenario.
- Please write this in a third person STORY format, you can make it as long as your want, but keeping it too short is probably not a great idea.
- This is once again judged by CREATIVITY of your (written) entry, so go ahead and write to impress!
- You can doodle an entry if you want, but your boss might not appreciate your illustrations as much...

exclaim

He was at..

*puts on sunglasses*

the end of his rope....

(( PS, Ilu guys, I had to do it)

Poor, poor Sloth. Those dark circles under his eyes suggested a life of restless torment at the hands of something far worse than any external injury.

Sloth was addicted to the Bufo Alvaris. Oh, he had seen it a million times before. I mean, he was a rookie but… Bufo Alvaris addictions were common in the seedier parts of Halloween.

They mostly called the activity ‘licking frogs’.

Oh, it starts out innocently enough. You try it on a dare. I mean, who would lick a frog, right? But he did it. Sloth licked the Bufo Alvaris and liked it.

It all went downhill from there in a flurry of school expulsions and absences. The reason for all those was because he was so busy trying to get his next high—Sloth could only “sloth” about when he was tripping on frog venom.

In his efforts to satisfy his addiction, Sloth met fellow junkie Gluttony. The only difference between the two was that Gluttony enjoyed eating her frogs after licking them. That explained her answering machine: she was always out dining on the Bufo Alvaris.

Now, Gluttony was good friends with someone who owned the deeds of many Bufo Alvaris farms. People who feared her called her Don Bufo. Those who knew her called her by her first name: Lilith.

“Sloth, where are you?” – Lilith

It made perfect sense. Sloth had failed to make payment on his latest batch of slimy frogs. Gluttony had also given him money for his addiction, as evidenced by her voicemail. In an attempt to cash in, she tried to be a messenger for Lilith. She called him, asking if Sloth had contacted “them” yet. “Them” obviously were Don Bufo and her cronies.

Sloth saw no way out, but there was no way he was going to kill himself. He still had a lot to live for! There were still lots of frogs out there for him to lick. So, Sloth decided to fake his own suicide to fool both Don Bufo and Gluttony.

It took a lot to make a fake body. Sloth had to sort through all sorts of junk in order to make the perfect one, resulting in his room’s mess. Months were probably spent holed up in this room, toiling away for the sake of his life. He didn’t even have time to clean his dishes, which led to them piling up on the sink. Since there were no rafters or the like on his ceiling, Sloth obviously attached his rope directly to the ceiling.

Unfortunately, Don Bufo’s men were onto him. They sent a skilled ghost as an assassin, and its orders were simple: kill Sloth. The ghost was weak by itself, so it possessed the growing, disgusting mass that was accumulating in Sloth’s sink. Sloth was attacked by the very filth that he had created! The ghost dragged Sloth and slammed him into the window, shattering it. Thinking that Sloth was unconscious, the ghost tried to contact Don Bufo. This is when Sloth had the opportunity to try to write “HELP” on the window. However, the ghost-mess noticed, and threw him out the window, following behind him. Don Bufo’s men were waiting about twenty feet away in a van, where the ghost-mess hauled Sloth away.

Drugs, mobsters, and ghosts were what led to poor Sloth’s demise.

Entry for Sloth!

"Grisly scene isn't it?" Remarks your partner. He arrived a little earlier at the scene. "Anyway, I know you had other things to attend to, but I really have to go soon. I have just enough time for you look around and have about 20 requests, rookie. The rest of the crime scene will have to be left untouched." …..

What a mess... And not just what the boy had left behind. Chuck Scareson was a newbie on the Boogiemen investigation force, but he was intent on doing this properly. He tugged his fedora down over his hairy ears before procuring a cigarette from his pocket and bringing it to his black gnarled lips between sharp claws.

Before his match struck, his partner cleared his throat, giving him an incredulous look, “Are you sure that's a good idea? Who knows what fumes are in here, bub.”

Chuck started to argue, but the rancid smell emanating from the heaps around them made him think better of it. He knew he should have gone with toothpicks. Damn. “Look, I'm trying to get into the right frame of mind. Give me time to think.”

The other boogieman glanced at his watch and grimaced, “Just hurry it up. I've got places to be, kid, and you've got a report to fill out. Heck if I'm stuck with this fiddly work. ”

Chuck bristled, but quickly rambled off questions and poked around the room as much as he dared. It was heaped with garbage and who knew how many years worth of laundry and dishes. But somewhere, hidden in the piles, had to be an answer. All too soon, examination time was over and he was left in his office, (which was really the broom closet with a flash light taped to the wall) alone with his notes.

General profile of “Sloth”: Blank faced/weary expression, attacked? Missing. Seems unlikely to cause trouble. Absolutely messy horrifying room, filled answering machine. Gone how long? (Mostly failure to send in application on time to Amityville. ) Clearly lazy, biggest fault. Rope- Too lazy to commit suicide? WHY? Attached to ceiling with an adhesive. What is it there for?

The list went on....

Chuck stared at the scribbled notes with a determined expression. After another several reads, his face fell to a look of despair. What on earth could have happened here? Alright, take it one thing at a time. Clearly this young man was lazy beyond belief. The mountains that made up the room were no doubt the product of a teen who clearly was not getting enough vitamins and toxins in his system. He owed someone money, perhaps even more than one? No no no, he was getting ahead of himself. Most of these clues were useless. Why had the Sergeant only given him a few minutes? He was new to this after all! Now now, that was no way to think. Alright. Who done it. Was there even something to be done? He knew nothing about this Sloth person except what lay in front of him, making assumptions could lead to ruin- Or was it making assumptions was how you found out who did it? Damn, it always seemed so easy in those human Detective books he kept 'borrowing' from the children's bedrooms when he was out scaring. But you needed a day job and this had been his dream after all- Right.

The rope and the strange black substance, those had been the most obvious. What made slime like that? He remembered the stuff had been very much like ectoplasm, but black. Could he have hurt himself and bled? No, most of the cutting implements were dull or so battered you couldn't cut even the most rancid and soppy of jollymeals with them. Sure, the kid looked like the dreary sort to try to kick the bucket early, so to speak, he'd seen their types all over the Maul, loitering outside the Hell Topic talking about how dreary life is and useless, despite the fact they've hardly started living at all. Or Unliving as the case may be. Sad, really. But it felt too obvious. He would have been more prepared if that was the case, everything sharp and ready to go. And probably at least some sort of knot in the rope, beside the fact it was far too long. So strike out possible suicide attempt. Then why was the rope there?

Chuck chewed the end of his pencil and soon regretted it, picking out lead from his gnarled maw. Right. Think. Now, the sink, that was also odd. What was the black stuff doing under all of the trash? It had to have been put there first- or did it erupt from the pipes themselves? He tried to remember the trajectory of the black smear across the garbage, but the room had been so filthy it had been impossible to tell. But the window had been intact, aside from the broken glass. Right.

He stared at the notes, feeling as though he was teetering on the cliff of understanding and any moment would topple down to a pit of answers. So close... Gluttony. What about her? None of his friends seemed to have seen or heard from him, and he had failed to send out school applications which clearly were mandatory for the young man in question, or there wouldn't have been so many angry messages- A note for a dance. Perhaps this Lillith was to be his date? He never showed up but why?

He stared as something clicked. Of course! Furiously, he completed his report and hurried off to announce his deduction.

* * * * *

“So you think you've solved it already?” His partner glanced up over his magazine sporting a scantly clad ghoul doing lewd things to a pumpkin on the cover. 'Other things to attend to' indeed.

“Sir!” Chuck saluted smartly, “It was obvious, really!” He pulled down the tip of his fedora, chewing the toothpick he had replaced the cigarette with. He had practiced in the mirror a few times to make sure he got the jaunty angle just right as he slapped the paperwork down on his partner's desk.

“So you know who kidnapped him from all that?”

“I don't think it was kidnapping at all, sir.”

“Then what?”

“The place was a mess, sir.”

“Nicely observed.”

“REALLY a mess, sir. The boy was clearly lazy- extremely lazy. Lazy enough to let things build up- debts, school letters, clutter, trash- the black goo could have been anything, a spectral visitor, a seething demon, his own wounds... but without being able to take samples of the kid we don't know for sure-”

“The kid's missing. You can't take samples of what ain't there, Chuck.”

“I know I know I know, but I don't think it's necessary!”

“And we don't have that kind of equipment anyway, not for a rookie.”

“I didn't ask- just let me continue, okay? I swear this is going somewhere.”

Begrudgingly, the older Boogieman turned the page of his magazine and half listened to the rookie babble on.

“So he's borrowing money, making plans and probably failing to follow through... when suddenly things get too much. Who needs to take the garbage out when you can just shove it in the sink or down the toilet, right?” He hurried on before the other boogieman could stop him, “So it's all this muck growing underneath everything, it finally becomes something more... maybe it was the kid's own Fear, y'never know- all them loose ends coming back to get him-” His partner looked lost, and he shifted, dramatically removing his hat to slam that too onto the desk. “Before he knows it, he's got a goopy monstrous growing mold monster demanding fresh offerings of gym socks and ancient cheese sandwiches- The kid tries to borrow money from a friend for disinfectants and cleaning sprays and soaps, but somehow he doesn't get that far- soon it's got him trapped, see? He's unable to apply to school, fails to show up for his date and finally he's had enough, he drags the thing to the sink and tries to shove it down and barricade it in with left over garbage! But it's not enough, the creature takes a route around the bend, so to speak and leaps out for revenge!” He was getting passionate now, knocking the novelty items off of his partner's desk as he climbed on top to gesticulate wildly as he explained the sordid tale.

“No one thinks to look for him because they KNOW he's lazy and won't answer their calls! He's trapped and alone and cornered and he tries to write a call for help for anyone on the outside in the creature's own muck but it's spotted him! He constructs the quickest escape he can manage, being one to cut corners, a rope with whatever he can find to make it stick. We didn't check the adhesive holding the rope up, but that stuff mixed with water got pretty thick, I'm sure if he was clever he could have just dipped it in the stuff and thrown it and hoped for the best- Just as it lunges for him-” And he jumped off of the desk to illustrate this, “He swings from the rope, trying to get to the door, and it leaps past him and it's moldy, slime-like composition crashes through the window, leaving the slimy frame and lands just outside where it climbs along before vanishing down a sewer vent! It's not the boy we gotta' worry about, Sir, it's this run away slime creature! It could be dangerous!”

“And then where's the kid?” His partner was staring at him blankly from over his magazine.

“I dunno, probably hit a pile of all that junk and it fell on top of him. He's probably trapped there as we speak! Or he could have scurried up the rope if there's an attic, you didn't really give me a chance to look-”

“You're kidding, right?”

((Entering for Sloth))

He coughed nervously authoritively to make sure his partner was listening (He wasn't.) before giving his conclusions on the case of the Mysteriously Missing Mr. MSloth (Darn! His awesome alliteration ruined.) "Well, it's obvious what's happened here. As anyone who knows anything about the human world would know a procrastinators greatest fear is the mess in their room coming to life and attacking like in same cheap B grade horror movie. And we all know what happens when humans Fear something enough." Or at least he hoped they did, he wasn't explaining something like that! 

"For Mr. Sloth here it was just poor luck, his slothish attitude towards everything - including cleaning - meant that the new resident was attracted to materialize here. He probably had no clue what was going on at first, the garbage just seemed to building up quicker than usual. But before he knew he was literally waist deep in garbage and to get around his room he needed something to help him along, something to cling to, the rope stuck to the ceiling in this case. You can see the evidence in this from the worn and dirty appearance of the rope and the fact this probably caused a lot of noise and the neighbor said they heard more ruckus than usual." The Bogieman was especially proud of himself for noticing that detail.

"Eventually it got so bad that he actually bothered to do something about - in this case writing 'Help Wanted Cleaning Up Garbage' on the window in the thick ectoplasmic like goo since he was too lazy to find a marker amongst the mess. It just so happened that the person to answer his plea was Ms. Gluttony. After spending hours disposing of disgusting garbage Ms. Gluttony demanded her pay, Mr. Sloth proceeded to point out he promised no such thing but Ms. Gluttony is still demanding it, the message in her answering machine recording. Before she left she pointed out what I had concluded, a new monster was forming in his trash, and told him to contact the proper authorities. Mr. Sloth promptly forgot to and Ms. Gluttony has been nagging him since, the 'them' in her message. Because of his lax attitude the garbage rapidly built up again and Ms. Gluttony refused to help again unless he paid for the first time. Finally it got bad enough that Mr. Sloth attempted to deal with it himself only the trash didn't take it lying down this time and fought back by throwing him out the window, shattering his message, before retreating down the sink."

...

"Oh, where is he now? That's simple, Ms Lilith took him. After weeks of being ignored, her letters gone unanswered, she came to find him personally and came by just as he was defenestrated. Mr. Sloth was likely either unconscious or asleep at this point and she picked him up and took him away, thus the abrupt result of the goo that would have been covering Mr. Sloth after his tussle."

exclaim

The young bogeymen cornered her outside of the food court in the maul. She sat in their office, waiting to be questioned. She twiddled her thumbs nervously.

"So, Gluttbutt, want a doughnut? Huh?" The first bogeyman dangled a delicious treat in front of her face.

"Uhm, man, I don't think the good cop bad cop thing applies here, she's kind of a kid..."

"...Right... Down to business, then. Where were you at the time of Sloth's disappearance?"

Claire looked to one, and then the other
"I don't know... Probably eating... Why?" she answered, now looking increasingly more nervous

"There's evidence leading to you throughout his dorm room. There's no time to play games here, miss: we know you're connected."

Claire finally gave up.
"Ok. I know what happened. It's a long story...
There was this whole thing about a girl called Lilith and a guy called Steve and stuff. Me, Greed, Envy, Wrath, Lust, Pride and Sloth were trying to stop him from doing whatever he was doing ANYWAY...
Most of us had tried and failed and there was only Pride and Sloth left to try and defeat Steve. Pride was planning her own thing and Sloth, being the slacker he is, decided that he wouldn't help without motivation. So he turned to me, asking for food seeing as he was too much of a lazy-bum to go and get some himself. We decided on five cans of pickled worms and the plan was ready to go. The weeks went by and I had already paid him and he had done nothing."

"What was he going to do, anyway?"

"Uhm... Good question, I'll get back to you on that. I called him a few times and he didn't pick up. I stopped for a while and eventually ran into him on campus. I said to him that he needs to get going, and he said to me that there was a hitch and he needed the help of a couple of slimes that he'd seen advertised in the newsletter, they were hiring themselves out for jobs, you see, to help. I let him be, but after a bit I called him again to see if he'd contacted them. I began to wonder what he was going to pay the slimes with, seeing as he was constantly asking me for loans previous to this. He didn't seem to have much money. I got curious, ok? I staked outside of his room a couple of nights until he had a meeting with the slimes. They were nothing special, really, monsters never are, but they began to talk about payment. I watched him. He seemed a bit panicked, and began to try and climb a rope to the ceiling. He couldn't find a way in and he swore loudly, and there was heaps of banging and crashing, he had obviously fallen. There were a few things I couldn't hear until Sloth started to talk again. He offered two cans of pickled worms for payment, and the slimes agreed. I peeked in, and he was handing over the cans. One of the slime monsters wanted to eat there and then, so they were opening their can. The can was a bit juicy and the slime holding it ran to the sink where his goo went all over the bench. Sloth didn't mind for some reason, but whatever. That's not relevant. I don't remember much happening after that, except Sloth mentioned something about him losing the key to the door, so one of the slimes opened the window and they left that way. I had to run fast, and luckily they didn't see me.
As soon as I got back to my dorm the phone rang. Sloth said that the slime monsters agreed to do his dirty work, but I stopped him and told him that I'd seen what happened. I asked him about why he tried to go into the ceiling and he mumbled something about the weather and hung up. I called him again and he finally admitted that he kept whatever money he had up there. Naturally I was angry so I stormed over there the next day to give him a piece of my mind. But he wasn't there. Maybe he was expecting me and fled, because he was too much of a cheapo to pay me back."

"Uhuh... And what about the note?"

"What note?"

"This one." The bogeyman showed her the note that said 'HEL'

"I don't know. He was probably teaching himself how to write. He mentioned in passing that he really didn't know how."

"This all checks out. You're free to go."

After gluttony had left, one of the bogeymen turned on the other.

"Why is she free to go? She's the one that caused him to go missing!!"

The bogey man held out a finger, signaling him to be silent.
"We weren't supposed to examine her, remember? Nobody knows about this meeting, so we can pretend we worked it out ourselves and get the credit. It's the perfect crime."

"Or anti-crime... We are Bogeymen."

HALLOWEEN TOWN BOOGEYMAN DEPARTMENT - DETECTIVE CASE SYSTEM - VIEW CASE REPORT

Report created on 11/23/10 by ROOKIE DEMBONES

11/23/10, 735 HRS MISSING PERSON
116 SPOOKSIDE APARTMENTS
SLOTH

ON 11/21/10 8:40 PM I RESPONDED TO A CALL THAT A MINOR HAD BEEN ATTACKED AND GONE MISSING 11/20/10 AT APPROXIMATELY 10 PM. I MET WITH SENIOR BOGEYMAN FANG BATARANG TO ASSIST IN THE EXAMINATION OF THE MINOR'S APARTMENT.

THE APARTMENT WAS A SINGLE ROOM COVERED IN OLD FOOD AND VARIOUS PAPERS WHICH INCLUDED NOTICES FOR MISSED APPOINTMENTS AND UNFILLED OUT APPLICATIONS TO AMITYVILLE ACADEMY. THE SKELLYPHONE RECORDER CONTAINED 99 MESSAGES FROM AMITYVILLE ACADEMY REMINDING THE MINOR TO SEND IN HIS APPLICATION AND ONE MESSAGE THAT SAID "HI SLOTH, THIS IS GLUTTONY. DID YOU CONTACT THEM?" PRESUMABLY ALSO ASKING ABOUT HIS APPLICATION.

A LONG ROPE WAS GLUED TO THE CEILING. THE OUTER WINDOW WAS BROKEN AND A TRAIL OF THICK BLACK SLIME EXTENDED OUT THE WINDOW FOR APPROXIMATELY 20 FEET.

Rookie leaned back from the typewriter, then re-examined his own small notepad. He had written:

Unanswered phone messages, notices, missed appointments. He isn't the sort who would leave the apartment on his own. Something must have carried him out.

There was a story here, and Rookie could see the writing on the wall.

When the trash built up, to combat the smell and too lazy to open the window, Sloth broke it open instead.

The smell leaked out into the street, and started to attract record numbers of flies.

Instead of putting up lots of fly paper, Sloth took one big piece of rope and dunked it in sticky stuff, then glued it to the ceiling.

It worked. The rope DID catch flies.

But over time, the rope began to catch more than flies. Mice, birds, cats, small dogs..until the unchanged rope became a gigantic buffet of dead animals.

Sloth was probably going about his daily business that Saturday night, not filling out applications, when suddenly: THE SKITTERS CAME.

BURSTING THROUGH THE BROKEN WINDOW, drawn towards the unmistakable smell, they covered the ceiling, floor, and walls and in a rush of gore and ferocity picked the rope clean. Once it was depleted, they turned their attentions to Sloth.

Too big to be devoured immediately, the Skitters dragged him towards the window, in his desperation he must have spotted the many unfilled application papers, and began to furiously write a single name in the NAME slot: WRATH.

The application papers came to life, quivering with anger, and attacked. Soon the room was a furious mess of crumpled papers and Skitter gunk.

Too far to make it to the door, Sloth must have taken advantage of the chaos to write on the wall: SKIttEL_____ before a Skitter hauled him outside. The rest of the message must have been wiped away in the carnage, and after the applications were destroyed, the remaining Skitters ate their dead and left.

Since everyone knows Skitters like to prolong their victims suffering for days before surprising them with death, there was a good chance Sloth was still intact. And he could only be one place: THE SKITTER HOMENEST, HELD CAPTIVE BY LILITH, QUEEN OF THE SKITTERS.

He finished the report, ATTACKED BY SKITTERS, PROBABLY STILL ALIVE. RECOMMEND CHECKING KNOWN SKITTER INFESTATIONS. PRIORITY SHOULD BE PLACED ON FINDING THE SKITTER QUEEN WHO MAY HAVE PERSONAL RELATIONS WITH MISSING MINOR.
--

Senior Bogeyman Fang Batarang read the report a second time, to make sure he hadn't hallucinated it.

He was saved from commenting by Sloth, who had appeared in the doorway of the office looking entirely intact and not covered in webbing.

"How did you escape the skitters!" Rookie yelped.

"What skitters." Sloth asked.

"THE ROPE!" Rookie hesitated, then added helpfully, "In your room!"

"Oh." Sloth said. "You mean my Ultimate Bed-Hammock. That didn't really work out."

"Your what?" Rookie asked.

"I was going to suspend my bed from the ceiling. So I could get to any point in my room without leaving the bed. ...I thought about using hooks, but it was easier to glue rope to the ceiling instead. Then it turned out, gluing ropes is a lot of work, and the ceiling probably would have come down anyway. It was creaking a lot."

"And you just left it there? What about the broken window, and the black gunk everywhere! What about the skitters?!"

Sloth shrugged. "I was cooking dinner."

"Dinner." Rookie said, going limp in his chair.

"Trying. After it went out the window, I realized I needed to live somewhere with a microwave. I was going to crash with some buddies of mine. I tried Greed, Envy, Gluttony, Wrath. By the time I got to Lust, I figured something was up. Nobody was home. Everyone was gone. What were the odds them all being out when I showed up? And I thought, I might be next, someone should report this. So I came here."

"What about the writing on the wall!"

"Was there? My dinner really shot out of there. Guess it splattered weird. Wouldn't have happened with a microwave."

"You came here to fill out a missing persons report?' Fang asked, trying to steer the conversation back on-topic.

"Uh," Sloth said, "Fill out a report, as in fill out papers?" He was beginning to look as though he had swallowed a used sock. "I just remembered I haven't checked with everyone yet. Very neglectful of me. To not be thorough. Shoddy. Probably a coincidence anyway. I should uh," he thumbed backwards, slinking slowly out of the doorway. There was a distant "didn't know i'd have to fill out anything".

Rookie, on the other hand, was definitely going to have to fill out another report.