Chocolate Deer (open)

[Sivoncé™]

"Shih! Shih, shih, SHIH!!"
Snow swirled amlessly over the little town of Out of Context. The power lines trembled under the pressure of the wind, which howled and caterwauled, blaring out all other sound--
"SHIIIIHHHHHHHH!"
Except for Death.
The black, semi-transparent denizen appeared to be embracing the bottom of a street lamp. Which, given his desperate state, wouldn't be out of his league... Not thinking about my pathetic love life...no, I am not thinking about that...not in a crisis!
"HEEEEEWWWWP!! Ummm-uddy hewp eeeee!"
Tug as he may, Death's tongue was firmly iced to the power pole.

And behind him, a choclafied deer lingered in waiting...

[Njack]

"So, what do we have here?" Shaw wiped his mouth with his paw, leaning casually against the streetlamp. To look casual, of course. Option D.

"It's a dark and stormy night. Perfect for word count, if you ask me." He looked down, seeing Death stuck to the pole. "Well. Maybe not dark, because of all the snow. Nor stormy, just snowy. And it might not be night. I haven't really been paying attention."

He slouched his hat down over his eyes. Er... that is, if he had been wearing a hat.

"Say, humble denizen, what has brought you here to this crossing? Fortune or fate?" He glanced down again, where Death was still stuck to the pole. "And I'll have you know, I charge a dollar per case." He wasn't sure what he meant himself - he wasn't some weird private eye or something.

Shaw glanced behind him, behind Death, and saw a chocolatafiedimusinished deer. Why is it looking at me like that? Business is dwindling... maybe I'll have a case soon enough.

[Sivoncé™]

Chocolate face just stared, all glossy and chocolate-eyed.
"HEWP EEEEEEEE!" C'mon, detective, crack the dang case already! I don't wanna play cops and robbers anymore! I have marriages to officiate and bars to tend to! Epiphany time! Huh, ya know, I never noticed how weird it was that I'm a priest AND a bartender...pretty good pay, though....

Phobia wandered by aimlessly. It's funny. In real life, the crazy girl is....nevermind, she's not all that different.
"Hey, look, FOOD!" Phobia began to stalk the stationary deer...

Which blinked a single, sugary lid. Death's eyes grew wide.
"ITH UH-AIVE!" Help, dangit, HELP!

[Njack]

"'Hewp eeeeeeee' he says. Well, the characters I have to deal with everyday..." Shaw tilted his imaginary not-really-there hat down some more. "I'll just say that's a case for me. Remember, I charge sur-"

He glanced down at Death. "Okay, fine. But just this once." Geez, interrupting my monologue to get his tongue stuck to a pillar? When'd that happen, anyway? Shaw, as you could tell, was very observant. A very observant detective. Yes. Yes, he was.

"HIYA!" Executing a somewhat decent karate chop - er, as decent of a karate chop as you can do with your foot-paw-thing... rear paw thing? - Shaw disconnected the tongue from the pole. For a moment, he thought he heard a dial tone, but then he figured that was him being delusional.

"That'll be a dollar." He held out his paw. "And what is that deer doing over there, stalking me?... Well, it looks like soon the stalker will become the stalked! Or is it stalkee?"

Pondering this, he forgot to deliver his line about his detective movie coming out in 2011 or something. I don't know. Detective Shaw, in theatres January 2011... Yeah, I really don't know.

[Sivoncé™]

"AHHHHH!!!!"
Death squealed like a little girl getting her braids pulled =P.
His maw calmped shut, throbbing in agony. He trembled with the terribly feeling that something had detached from his mouth...
Of course, the black, frostbitten lump of tongue at his paws might be it....ya never know, it could've been there this whole time.
He fainted as the chocolate deer blinked again.

Phobia stopped mid-stalk. Did he just karate chop Death's tongue off? What a releif, the guy was getting on my nerves with his ultra-lame pick-up lines...
She padded cordially over to Shaw. Maybe this guy has a card and runs his own business or something. "Hey mister, who're you?"

[Njack]

He leaned against the pole. No, wait, wasn't he already leaning against the pole? Oh well, he was leaning against the pole now.

"Shaw. Det-" He stopped for a moment. "Just Shaw, ma'am. That's who I am."

Shaw glanced at the tongue on the ground. Geez. Why'd he lose his tongue? I mean, I went to all that trouble to get it off that pole. Normally, the narrator would make a bad pun on the lines of "deer got your tongue" or "looks like he just got licked" or something like that, but I think I'll forgo it for now. Oh wait, too late.

[Sivoncé™]

Phobia dipped her head slowly, flinching slightly as Death THUMPED against the ground. It's funny, I've always thought of Death as a small little guy, probably cause he was such a youngster when he tried to take over the world. Guess he put on some weight.
Curiousity got the best of her. Phobia plodded forward and poked at Death's tummy with a dainty paw.
"MooooooooooOOOOO!!!!"
She stepped back briskly as he groaned like a moo-cow.
"Should we take him to a hospital or something?" She asked Shaw, avoiding looking at the black lump that rested on the ground next to him.
The hairs of her spine stood on end. Soft little hooved plopped in the snow behind her.
Don't look at the deer, don't look at the deer....be veeerrry still!
She curled into the fetal position.

[Njack]

"Oh, that's just great," Shaw self-narrated to himself, making a note to put it in his detective notebook the next time he got back to his er... cave or something. What do detectives even live in? "My client turned into a cow. I'm afraid this may mean I may not get any payment for this case."

He thought briefly about getting a monocle, and then wondered why Phobia was curled up in the fetal position, and then wondered why there was a crazy chocolatedishicle deer staring him in the face.

Shaw blinked.

He took a nonexistent cigarette out of his nonexistent cigarette case, lit it with his nonexistent lighter, and then took a drag on it with his nonexistent mouth. No wait, scratch the last nonexistent. Kids, don't try this at home. Real winners don't use drugs.

[Sivoncé™]

Phobia was stubbornly certain that not moving would be the best thing to do in this sort of situation. So, pretty much, she just crouched there, eyes wide like saucers.

Speaking of saucers, Death still wasn't totally on his saucer. It's a french expression, when someone is ill, to say "je ne suis pas dans mon assiette". In other words, Death was not on his plate. His plate was broken and discarded styrofoam, for all he cared. Tongueless, he oogled at Sir Chocolate Face.
Why does this always happen to me?

Soft pawsteps tittered over the frozen earth. With a wistful glance to the wolves assembled before the deer, Regulus offered a dark chuckle. "Weaklings," he snickered. He bent and took a hearty bite of chocolate hindleg.