Mickey has lived his whole life in run-down Shadybrook, California. Like the rest of the locals, he takes the townâs creepiness for granted and doesnât think much about the fact that every summer, the monsoon season is accompanied by supernatural phenomena like the Route 66 Apeman. With his best friend, Charlie, he joins a citizensâ police academy in a cynical attempt to get over his hang-ups about women.
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Against the backdrop of the supernatural monsoons that have turned deadly for the first time, a mysterious entrepreneur unites the town's feuding cliques with vague promises of reinvigorating the community through legal pot sales. As they uncover dark secrets, Mickey, Charlie, and the few other sane members of the academy are the only thing stopping their community from being wiped off the map entirely. But can Mickey work up the confidence and the energy to do whatâs right while developing a meaningful romantic relationship for the first time?
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It's a raunchy horror/comedy written for the few weirdos who equally enjoy Scooby Doo, Super Troopers, and Twin Peaks.
Mickey has lived his whole life in run-down Shadybrook, California. Like the rest of the locals, he takes the townâs creepiness for granted and doesnât think much about the fact that every summer, the monsoon season is accompanied by supernatural phenomena like the Route 66 Apeman. With his best friend, Charlie, he joins a citizensâ police academy in a cynical attempt to get over his hang-ups about women.
Â
Against the backdrop of the supernatural monsoons that have turned deadly for the first time, a mysterious entrepreneur unites the town's feuding cliques with vague promises of reinvigorating the community through legal pot sales. As they uncover dark secrets, Mickey, Charlie, and the few other sane members of the academy are the only thing stopping their community from being wiped off the map entirely. But can Mickey work up the confidence and the energy to do whatâs right while developing a meaningful romantic relationship for the first time?
Â
It's a raunchy horror/comedy written for the few weirdos who equally enjoy Scooby Doo, Super Troopers, and Twin Peaks.
Welcome to Shadybrook, California, located not far from Needles in the part of the state that the Red Hot Chili Peppers never get around to writing songs about. My best friend Mickey, with his scruffy goatee, shaggy hair, and ill-fitting clothes, sits by my side in the driverâs seat of his tricked-out hearse, the Rory Mobile, which looks like Big Daddy Roth's take on the Mystery Machine and has "5 Second Rule Catering" poorly airbrushed on the side. We cruise down Route 66, which is the main drag through our small, dying town. "Ghost Town" by the Specials plays out of the one working speaker.Â
On the way to the police station, we pass boarded-up homes with big, empty porches and yards full of weeds, as well as a shuttered elementary school with old desks rusting on what used to be a baseball field. A billboard silently lectures us on the before and aftereffects of meth near a worker manually changing a gas station's price sign, switching it down to just under six bucks for a gallon of the cheap stuff. After leaving âThe Heights,â as the locals call this relatively nice section of town, we see the remains of a recognizable fast-food restaurant that had transitioned into a head shop next to what used to be a supermarket. Tumbleweeds mingle with the few shopping carts that the local homeless population had not already commandeered. Next comes a liquor store, check-cashing place, and former methadone clinic. As we turn into âBeautiful and Historic Downtown Shadybrook,â as the radio commercials for the last surviving car dealership used to call it, we pass the long-closed Art Deco-style movie palace with âHappy Anniversary, Mr. and Mrs. Callahan!â on the marquee.Â
Mickey pulls up to the Shadybrook Police Station, thrust in the middle of a historic building given up by the railroad and clumsily repurposed as a strip mall. Admiral Dollar is on one side and the retro Galaxy Diner, spelled out in neon, is on the other. There is plenty of parking. Mickey gets out of the vehicle, lets me out of my side (the door doesnât open from the inside), and then pops the trunk. He puts on some used latex gloves, grabs an impossibly large sandwich, throws it over his shoulder, and walks in.
The smell of stale coffee hits with the same subtlety as the dated motivational posters that carpet the walls. Mickey plops the sandwich on a folding table thatâs covered in a cheap plastic tablecloth. Stan Mendoza, the Chief of Police, looks like his usual approachable self, out of uniform in a business casual ensemble topped off with cowboy boots. Looking closer, he may work with the stylists from Undercover Boss, as his mustache seems like itâs peeling off.
âChief Mendoza. What's shakinâ?â Mickey asks. They shake hands, then Mendoza rubs whatever residue Mickey left onto his pant-leg.
âNot a whole lot, Mickey,â the Chief says.
Mickey quickly searches his pockets and pulls out a wadded-up invoice. âHere you are, sir,â he announces, and just as he tries to hand it to the chief, Mendoza pulls a flyer off the wall, places it on top of the document in Mickeyâs hand.
âThe police department folks were thinkingââ he starts.
âAren't you the only member of the Shadybrook PD?â Mickey responds.
âI convinced Lynda Callahan to volunteer once a week to help with paperwork. She and I were thinking that maybe you and the good folks at âFive Second Rule Cateringâ might be interested in helping.â
Mickey grabs the flyer, leaving chocolate fingerprints on the mimeographed faded green paper that says, "Shadybrook Citizens Police Academy â Meets weekly on Fridays at 6PM â Free food and no background check required!"
Iâm getting bored and also a little disappointed that Mendoza hasnât acknowledged me yet, so I sneak over to grab a piece of the giant sandwich.Â
âThe police department needs help from people like you for our new endeavor.âÂ
âYou think I'd be good?â Mickey asks.
âWell,â Mendoza hesitates. âI was actually going to ask if your company would just sponsor the food.â
âYeah, I think I'll check that out,â Mickey says, staring at the flyer. âWhen does it start?â
âTonight. At 8.â
Through one of those maneuvers that only really skinny, limber, nonathletic dudes can effortlessly pull, Mickey successfully hands the invoice back over to Mendoza while keeping the flyer.
The Chief, finally stooping down to pet me, mutters, âGood girl, Rory.â When he reaches my level, he realizes I had sucked a good quarter of the sandwich into my gullet. Thatâs what he gets for ignoring and then misgendering me.
Mickey, oblivious to the sandwich situation, turns to leave, saying, âIf you could get me the check for the sandwich at class tonight, that would be gnarly.â
#
     Mickey had a few more deliveries to take care of, so he sent me off to bring a note to his second-best friend, Charlie, as both of them are currently âbetween phonesâ and their walkie talkies need new batteries. Charlie, an athletic-looking Native American in a lifeguard outfit of red shorts and wayfarer sunglasses, grasps one of those life-saving poles with a net on the end to pull a drowned rodent out of the Shadybrook Municipal Swimming Pool.Â
Several kids stand around the outside of the pool, watching. A little girl with pigtails, probably named something that rhymes with âBraxton,â kicks around a partially deflated ball. She wears light-up sneakers, although only one of them actually lights up. She sees me, yells âDoggy!â and Charlie eyes her as she gets dangerously close to the pool. I notice a slightly older boy in goggles awkwardly push up against one of the pool jets, looking around guiltily.
âHey, Raw-Dog,â Charlie says, patting me on the head as he removes the note from under my collar. âGet your dick away from the water jet, Bodin! I don't want to have to tell you again. Everyone knows what you're doing.â
At that, he reads the note aloud since he knows I canât read Mickeyâs handwriting, although I can see the three large boxes drawn at the bottom of the page, labeled âyes,â âno,â and âmaybe.âÂ
âDear Charlieâyou know how you were just telling me you felt like a loser and wanted to do something with your life?â He stops and yells, âNo!â to no one in particular before continuing. âChief Mendoza is hosting a thing to train a posse or something. Starts tonight. I heard Billie will be there. If you wanna go, I'll pick you up.â
As he reads, I notice a well-dressed businessman over near the snack bar, talking into a phone using a nonspecific European accent. Could be a parent, except he seems a little too well-dressed to be a Shadybrooker.
âThere are some regulations that make this a little complicated, but nothing that we can't get past,â he says before pausing. âIf that's the way it will have to work, that's fine. Shadybrook is perfect. Everyone is underemployed and there is a glut of unused spaces of various sizes. We just need to keep things hushed until the big reveal.â
The little girl kicks the ball which has completely collapsed on itself and looks like a limp frisbee, close to the mysterious foreigner. As she gets closer, the man lowers his voice.Â
âAnd good news. We've isolated at least three of the basic factors,â is the last thing I hear from him as Charlie tucks the note back under my collar. When I look back, the man is gone.
#
The class is in progress and everyone looks up as Mickey, Charlie, and I enter the conference room. Mendoza stands in front of a whiteboard alongside Lynda Callahan, a tiny old bat with frizzy gray hair. A guy I know named Eric wears a threadbare sports coat with faded leather patches on the elbows and stands with his arms crossed and massive eyebrows cocked. Everyone in the room fans sweat off of themselves with whatever they have in hand. I just let my tongue dribble on the floor.Â
     We take a seat in the back, behind Billie, one of those people that somehow looks like a Doonesbury character, but in a good way. She has dark, straight hair that stops just above her shoulders, a short-sleeved turtleneck, and giant glasses that seem either completely earnest or a hipsterâs joke depending on the situation. In either scenario, sheâs kind of adorable.
âWow. Billie's here,â Mickey stage whispers to Charlie.
âWhat? You told me she'd be here,â he responds.
Billie turns around.Â
âHi, Billie,â Mickey says, and she sort of smiles.
âAlright. You may now return to your regular seats,â Mendoza says to the class.
So quickly that it looks choreographed, everyone does as the chief asks, quickly congregating into four distinct groups:
¡      Aspiring law enforcement types who look like they work in security
¡      Bored housewives who probably enjoy true crime books and procedural TV shows a little too much
¡      Social justice activists who imagine themselves as somehow fighting "The Man" from the inside
¡      A motley crew of animals that belong to a few of the aforementioned individuals and wear bogus, homemade "Service Animal" vests
âWhat did we learn from breaking into groups? Anybody?â Mendoza asks.
A few hands pop up, and Lynda interjects, âI learned that there are grapes that taste just like cotton candy. I can't believe it!â
Agatha, part of the homemaker contingent who does something involving the city government and is the school boardâs head book-burner, holds up a baggie full of plump green grapes, smiles, and winks at her.
âAnything else?â
Eric, the guy who dresses like Mr. Community College Professor but is really Mickeyâs colleague in the catering game, pipes in. âI learned that policing is not what it looks like in videos that the so-called media shows out of context.â
He looks to Mendoza for affirmation but doesnât get any.
Mendoza himself chimes in. âDid we learn that it's important to get out of our artificial comfort zones from time to time?â He looks around at his audience. âNo? Okay. Congratulations, everyone. You've made it through the first class of the Shadybrook Citizens Police Academy. I promise it will get better when we get out in the field. Remember, the program will culminate in a massive graduation banquet.â
     I canât help but lick my lips and I see Mickey does, too.
âBut before that, activities will include working with the medical examiners at the morgue,â Mendoza adds, and the bored housewives look at one another with excited guilty expressions. âWeâll tour the city jail,â cut to the social justice advocatesâ eyes getting wider.
Lynda pitches in, not to let the Chief have all the glory. âWe'll check out the pound.â The dubious service animals cower. âDo a ride-along.â The security dudes look like they might all ejaculate. âHit the shooting range.â One of the security guys does in fact bust a nut in his jean shorts. âAnd have lots of fun panel discussions.â Everyone grumbles, then the room gets quiet.
âClass dismissed,â Eric says, slapping his hands together. Mendoza looks over, as if thinking, "Who put you in charge?" and everyone in the rooms packs up their stuff.
Lynda pipes in. âHold your horses, boys. We haven't even mentioned the Route 66 Apeman yet. That's gotta be why most of these people are here.âÂ
Mendoza interjects over some nervous giggles. âLynda, you know that's a crock. This whole endeavor is to help us make a dent in the crime problem in this town. Maybe after we tackle Shadybrook's drug and poverty issues, we can talk about the Loch Ness Monster or El Chupacabra.â
âWhy not consider the quote-unquote âreal world stuffâ alongside the supernatural? They're not mutually exclusive,â Billie says.
     âWe would if we had time, just to ease people's minds, since plenty of reputable citizens seem to take that crap seriously. However, I am the entire Shadybrook Police Department at the moment, so that answers that.â
Eric adds, âThat reminds me â I know it's a hard habit to get into, but you all should start locking your cars and your homes. I know it seems contrary to the way we've always done things in Shadybrook, but it's becoming necessary.â
âAlright, alright. See you next week,â Mendoza says. âSame time â same place.â
âThat was it?â Charlie says to Mickey. We all look at the flyer taped to the wall. It states that the start time is 6 p.m. âIt started at 6 o'clock, you dick. You said eight!âÂ
Meanwhile, Billie stands and goes to chat up Eric. Charlie watches, silently fuming, just as a stranger walks in the door and Mickey and catches a look at her. She looks how I imagine Jennifer Lopez might if she had dropped out of show biz after In Living Color ended and got a retail job somewhere in middle America. In other words, she is naturally smokinâ hot in an unaffected way. Time seems to stand still for Mickey.
âAm I late? Uh! Not again,â the woman states to herself as Mickey stares.
Meanwhile, Mendoza approaches Charlie with an awkward man-hug.
âCharlie! I was going to invite you to check out the academy, but â you know? Wasn't sure if it was too soon. Anyway, I'm glad you're here. This was your father's idea.â
âThanks, Chief. I'm glad I made it, too,â Charlie responds. âIt feels good to be back at the station.â
Mendoza pats him on the back while Eric ushers everyone out of the room. Mickeyâs still staring at the newcomer.
âAlright. Please clear out. We have a BCA meeting starting in here in five,â Eric says. âThat's Biker Crank Anonymous,â he clarifies after no one asks.
Drew Purcell steps out of conformity and bravely delivers a book that many 'literary' snooty types will look down on through their noses but not me because this was an awesome and fun read! Comedy in the present day is hard to find, good comedy is even rarer and while this book has all the feels of a mid 2000's gross-out comedy it is so much more.
Welcome to Shadybrook; a Californian town that has seen better days and where there is always a mystery to be solved, from the legendary 'Route 66 Apeman' to the whereabouts of a Native American Relic.
'I don't think anyone consciously chooses to live here, but it has its way of sucking people in...'
Of course there are Scooby Doo vibes as the narration even comes from the eyes of a dog. Our two main characters 'Mickey' and 'Charlie' have resided here all their lives and decide to join citizen driven police patrol effort with a view to pick up women. Their efforts seem to succeed albeit comedically and so the makings of a crime fighting group is formed.
There are cool and fun references left, right and centre which take a jab at so many different things from tropes seen in story telling to modern entrepreneur business types and there is even a wealth of awesome music that is laid out after the story. Comedy is a hard thing to get right and Purcell succeeds most of the time by putting in as much as he can throughout - the stuff that didn't land for me was the few references I didn't know of but most of the time I found the book to be a fun and sometimes metaphorical look at the world with even some forth wall breaking. For some unconventional and unique fun I'd happily recommend this to anyone looking for that. This is comedy done right.