Pushing Daisies - (4 Parts)

[zakandsara]

Narrator: It was exactly one year, one month, six days and five hours since Charlotte Charles arrived at The Pie Hole. Although childhood sweethearts, to the naked eye (at least to Olive Snook's naked eye) it appeared that the only purpose being served by the girl called Chuck's arrival was to keep Olive away from the Pie Maker. Olive had loved the Pie Maker since the day they had met, as the Pie Maker had loved Chuck since the day they had met. And, as pie had done every day for the past one year, one month and six days, Olive stood at the counter, thinking that the rotten strawberries that lay before her were as mushy as her heart had become watching the Pie Maker with another woman. Just then, after only a moment of feeling sorry for herself, she felt something deep within her: a feeling she would later describe as "hopeful." She felt it warm her heart, travel up through her lungs, veins and throat and finally make its way into her eyes, which made them sparkle with a particular intensity of which they had never sparkled before. She decided that it was not only an orb of hope, but an orb of courage trying to escape. She opened her mouth and willed whatever would to come out. Seconds later, the feeling swelled until it had to be released and she finally let out an enthusiastic:

Olive: Hetch-IEEEW!

Narrator: Sneeze. disappointed with this morbidly normal phenomenon where an extraordinary one should have been, Olive sulked in her sorrow for only a split second before realizing that her embarrassment for the obnoxious show she had just put on prevailed. She ducked her head under the counter and rolled her eyes up toward the ceiling, wondering why she could never control herself.

Olive: Why can't I ever control myself?

Chuck: Olive? Was that you?

Narrator: Olive debated, for a moment, lying to the girl called Chuck; for she had stolen the love of her life. However, deciding at the last moment that Chuck might not be so bad, Olive stood to face the girl.

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More to come!

[Guest]

Oooh that's nice

[telltale]

This is amazing! It totally and perfectly captures the feel of the show, wow.

I'm so sad/bitter Pushing Daisies is over! Why, ABC, whyyy?

[zakandsara]

Olive: Yes! Yeah, it was me. Just dust, I'm sure. So...how's Ned?

Chuck: Oh, Ned's fine.

Narrator: Chuck grinned at the very mention of the Pie Maker's name.

Olive: You're grinning. Stole my grin, too...

Chuck: What was that?

Olive: Nothing! Pardon- Hah-KTCHEWW! Ugh.

Chuck: Bless you. Are you sure you're alright? You might be getting sick...you know, Ned was sick last week, so-

Olive: Thank you. I'm fine. It's probably allergies or something.

Chuck: Well, what are you allergic to?

Narrator: Olive was tiring of making small talk with the girl, but knew in her heart that Chuck hadn't done anything intentional to hurt her, so she let go of her anger, if only for that day, and considered Chuck as a potential friend. After all, she meant well.

Olive: Not much. I can't eat seafood, wool gives me hives and cats make me sneeze.

Chuck: Well, maybe there's a cat here.

Olive: Chuck. Do you have a cat?

Chuck: No.

Olive: Does Ned have a cat?

Chuck: Well, no...

Olive: Does Emerson have a cat?

Chuck: Okay, Olive. No one has a cat. But-

(Emerson bursts through the kitchen door, where they are talking.)

Emerson: Get your coats. We got a crazy that ain't no 'fraidey cat when it comes to murder.

--------------------------

Narrator: As the quartet sat at their usual table discussing where they were headed that afternoon, Olive found it rather difficult to keep quiet.

Emerson: So what we got on our hands is a regular thief- stole a cat from the shelter, but not before murderin whoever was working that night.

Olive: Huh-TCHIIIIEW!

Ned: Well. What do we already know about this guy? For example, why would anyone want to "steal" an abandoned, and free, cat?

Olive: Hiiiiitch-IEW! 'Scuse me.

(Emerson gives her an annoyed look. Chuck mouths 'bless you' to her. She smiles back at Chuck.)

[zakandsara]

Emerson: Well, that's why we're here, genius. We gotta talk to the guy who was murdered. Figure out any motives, enemies. I already went down to the pet shop, that guy knew nothin. But the kitties were cute.

Olive: Heeetchh..HAATCH-TCHIIIUEW!

Emerson: Hey, Squeaky. Knock it off.

Olive: Squeaky? Really?

Ned: You are a bit...squeaky.

Olive: ATCH-haaiooow! ...Yeah, okay.

Chuck: She can't help it, guys, she's allergic.

Emerson: Well she better help it. I ain't listenin to that chirping the rest of the day.

Ned: Emerson! Back on track! Where is the guy who stole the cat?

Emerson: If we knew that, idiot, we wouldn't be goin to the morgue. Now, let's go.

---------------

Sorry about the weird ending and beginning again...I'm on my phone and I'm not able to type a lot at a time for some reason. Anywho, I hope you guys enjoy. More is coming.

[Aria]

Aww, this is cute! It makes me miss Pushing Daisies... Kristin Chenoweth is so amazing. Ever heard her in Wicked?

[The Mute Poet]

Really great stuff, I love the ways you've spelled out these sneezes, and allergic ones on top of that, too...

[Bluebird]

This actually would make a really great episode. I say continue. Now if only they'd put Pushing Daisies back on the air...

[sneezedreamer]

OMG, this is amazing! So much like the show...you sure you didn't write for them??? Please do continue if you can, it would be so awesome to have more Daisies fic now that the show has been canceled.

[zakandsara]

Narrator: Though Emerson had had a thorough day planned, ideally ending in the counting of his money that would surely be gained by successfully solving yet another case, the Pie-Maker's previous vow had not yet been taken into consideration by Mr. Cod.

Ned: Olive, why don't you go take some antihistamines. I think Chuck has some in the back?

Narrator: The Pie-Maker, although being sure not to touch the girl called Chuck, gave her a slight nudge of the head as if to say "Why don't you get out of here so we can talk without Olive finding out I can wake the dead?" The girl took the hint.

Chuck: Sure. Olive, why don't we get out of here so these guys can talk?

Olive: Okay, I think I probably should take something...

Narrator: Ned, waiting until he could no longer hear the girl's sniffling and she could no longer hear his whispering, reminded Emerson of his promise.

Ned: Emerson, I told you I'm not doing that anymore. Being a Pie-Making dead-waker is way more complicated than just being a pie-making crust-baker. I'm done with that, I've caused too much trouble. Take Chuck with you, she'd love to help.

Emerson: Dead girl ain't gonna wanna be any help. Besides, I can't be listenin' to her yappin' about you all day. I get enough of that here.

Narrator: Chuck had arrived just in time to hear Emerson's refusal, but decided not to take any of it personally, for he preferred to work alone.

Chuck: Emerson, I'll tell you what. I'm not going to take any of that personally and I'm gonna go with you. Because I know you need and secretly want my help. And I promise to you that I won't talk about Ned until this case is closed.

Emerson: Fine. Get your stuff. Let's catch this pussy cat.

-------------------------

Narrator: As the duo arrived at Fern Fletcher's Furry Friends, Emerson thought it strange to be back to solving crimes the way he once had- without the Pie-Maker.

Emerson: If Ned were helpin' us, we'd have been done two hours ago.

Chuck: Well, it's his choice and, as his friends, we should try to respect that. Now hush up about Ned; if I'm not allowed to talk about him, neither are you. Look! There's Fern Fletcher, maybe she has something to say about the murder.

Emerson: Are you Fern Fletcher of Fern Fletcher's Furry Friends?

Fern: Yes sir, who's asking?

Emerson: My name's Emerson Cod, private investigator. I've been hired to look into the theft/murder that took place here last night. You mind tellin' us anything about that?

Fern: Oh, Mr. Cod! I've never been more frightened in my life! I got the call at three this morning, said there'd been a break-in. When I finally got here, I found Lola missing and James dead on the floor in front of her cage.

Chuck: Why would anyone want to steal Lola, Ms. Fletcher?

Fern: Well. We'd just discovered that, before we found her on the streets, she'd been the pet of Amelia Sanders-

Chuck: The heiress to the Sanders Sand Paper fortune!

Fern: The LATE heiress to the Sanders Sand Paper fortune. She passed away in her sleep several weeks ago, and with no living family members or close friends, she'd left her whole estate-monetary funds included- to Lola, her beloved pet.

Emerson: So whoever was here last night was not only a cat lover...

Chuck: But also a cash lover!

Fern: Precisely. Such a shame, too...we were going to donate her to the Sanders Sand Paper main executive branch...they knew how much Lola meant to her.

Chuck: So the employees of Sanders Sand Paper were the only people who knew of the fortune at stake?

Fern: No, no. They had no idea! My employees were the only people I'd divulged this information to. We were going to suprise the Sanders team by presenting Lola at their 50 anniversary party.

Emerson: Ms. Fletcher, is it possible to give us a list of your employees who knew about Lola?

Fern: 'Course! Anything to help put that murdering burglar in jail where he belongs!

Chuck: Thank you so much for your time, Ms. Fletcher. And your information.

Fern: It's my pleasure, dear. Good luck! You're going to need it; it'll be hard to sniff out which one of these traitors stole our Lola for his own.

Emerson: Sniff out...

Emerson and Chuck: Olive!!

Narrator: Back at The Pie Hole, Emerson and Chuck propostioned Olive to follow her nose in the way that only she could.

Olive: No. I just don't think it's fair that I'm left out of all your secret huddles and booth conversations until you render me useful.

Chuck: Olive, you know that's for your own good-

Olive: Chuck! What could you possibly be talking about that I'm not allowed to hear!? I'm a big girl, I can handle the truth.

Narrator: Emerson sighed with annoyance and gave the girl called Chuck a look which she knew very well; a look of impatience.

Chuck: We're getting off topic here...will you just consider coming with us?

Olive: I don't-

Ned: What's going on, how'd the good old fashioned investigating go?

Emerson: Oh it went beautifully. Now if you don't mind-

Olive: They're trying to exploit my cat allergy in order to solve a crime so that you can all go back to whispering your little secretive secrets.

Ned: Sounds...enticing. Tell you what Olive, if you help them out, no more secrets. Any conversation here in The Pie Hole is open for you to join as you please.

Chuck: See, Olive? We're not aiming to hurt you.

Olive: I don't know! I just...feel weird about this.

Emerson: Listen, Snook. We need ya, ain't no gettin' around it. What do ya say, Itty Bitty?

Olive: I get to be Itty Bitty again?

Emerson: 'Course you do. So you're in?

Olive: I'm in.

---------------------

Narrator: Emerson led Chuck and Olive, whose chipper smile was beginning to fade at the sight of the arrival at their destination-the city morgue.

Olive: Ugh, this place gives me the willies.

Emerson: Just keep your cool, Itty Bitty.

Chuck: Come on, we've only got a few minutes, we still have to talk to the employees.

Olive: Jimminy crispies, it's creepy down here. Uhgg, is that the guy who died?

Emerson: That's him alright.

Olive: So that's a...a dead body, huh?

Chuck: You okay, Olive?

Olive: Yeah I- I should sit down.

Emerson: Take her over there, I'm gonna check this guy out.

Narrator: As Olive lay slumped against Chuck, who was trying her hardest to comfort the sweating and swooning woman, Chuck thought of the irony of this situation; Olive had been frightened of a dead body and was being soothed by Chuck, in theory a dead body herself. Chuck sat with Olive, offering her encouraging words to help shake out her nerves while Emerson took the time to shake out the small blanket he'd found among the deceased man's remaining possessions.

Chuck: You okay, Olive?

Olive: Yeah, I just...were you at the pet place today? With the cats?

Chuck: We were there, but we didn't-

Olive: Hitshh-chieeew.

Chuck: Bless you!

Emerson: Itty Bitty, is your sneezer getting sneezy?

Olive: Well...I don't know! I mean I sneezed, but I was laying with Chuck, it could've been something on her? Wait, I'm gonnaaaATCHoooo.

Chuck: Well?

Olive: I'm not sure, I'm still close to you-

Emerson: Oh for Christ's sake! Get up and come over here.

Olive: Jeez Louise, I forgot how grumpy you get when you're solving crime.

Emerson: I ain't grumpy, I'm onto something. Olive, come over here.

Olive: You mean clo-closer to the dead body? No, thank you, I think I'm okay.

Emerson: Olive. You came here because you told us you'd help. Now come over here.

Olive: Chuck?

Chuck: I'm coming, give me your hand.

Narrator: Chuck, being Olive's best friend as well as the one who begged her to come along, stood next to Olive, ready to hold her hand in support.

Emerson: Okay, you alright?

Olive: Yeah, yeah I'm fine.

Emerson: Good. Now, I want you to give Chuck a sniff, make sure it ain't her making your nose go all crazy.

Olive: Okay, Chuck?

Chuck: Yeah, go right ahead.

Narrator: And go right ahead she did. Emerson and Chuck waited ever so quietly to see what would, or rather wouldn't, escape Olive.

Olive: Nothing, I'm fine.

Emerson: S'what I thought. Now, go up to our dead buddy and take a whiff. If what I believe is correct, you'll be snifflin' all the way out the door and we'll have assured that he was on duty that night.

Olive: Alright. Here I go. Chuck, hand!

Chuck: Right! Coming.

Narrator: Olive repeated the experiment, though this time on a different, much more stimulating, variable.

Chuck: How d'you feel?

Narrator: Chuck finally spoke after moments of silence brushed the room.

Olive: I definitely feel something...Chuck, do you have a tissue?

Chuck: No, sorry! Emerson?

Emerson: I had a hankie in here somewhere...

Olive: Okay, then I'm gonna n-need my haaa-haa my hand back-HETCH-CHSHHH! KetchhhHOOO. HehhHEHmmmphhSHOOO.

Narrator: Olive, to no avail, was trying to stop her incessant sneezing while Emerson, who'd clearly gotten his answer and looked genuinely concerned, an emotion not present in most P.I.s, was motioning for Chuck to get Olive out of the room and into the car.

Olive: Heeehrrtshhhooooo! Hmmmpffttchoo. Knntch-choooo.

Chuck: Olive, don't try to hold them in, okay?

Olive: I don't haaanngggxtSCHOOOO a tissue, Chuhhmmphhffftchhh. Ughhhh!!

Narrator: Chuck, understanding every word although half were intertwined with sneezes, searched the tiny car for a tissue, napkin, or other device suitable for the poor girl in the backseat.

Chuck: Okay, here Olive, I found Emerson's handkerchief. Give me your hand.

Narrator: Olive, who was now starting to quiet down, took the small, cotton square being waved in front of her and was finally able to speak.

Olive: Uhnngg. Thadnks, Chuck.

Chuck: Olive! God, I knew we shouldn't have made you do this. You look really terrible.

Olive: Hey! I bmay be sdneezing, but I still have feelidngs.

Narrator: She gave her petite nose one last blow as Emerson got into the driver's side of his car, finally freeing herself up for unimpaired speech.

Olive: Ohh. That was rough.

Emerson: You done good, Itty Bitty. Y'okay back there?

Narrator: Olive smiled at Emerson who was giving her a look, a look she would later describe as true worry.

Olive: Yeah, I'll make it. What'd we accomplish?

Emerson: Well, we found out that he was definitely the one working that night and it definitely wasn't him that took Lola.

Chuck: How do you figure that?

Narrator: How he figured that was this. The facts were these: James Johnsten was 22 years, 4 months, 9 days, 12 minutes and 13 seconds old when he was murdered. His job at Fern Fletcher's Furry Friends was meant to be a temporary postion, not one which ensured him an anything but temporary spot in the ground. Five minutes before his shift was to end, he heard the familiar jangle of the door opening. When he tried informing the customer that the shop was closing, the "murdering thief" wouldn't take no for an answer and demanded to see Lola. When the thief took off, Lola's blanket was dropped along with a very valuable piece of evidence.

Chuck: What'd he leave?

Emerson: You mean what'd SHE leave. Strands of her hair must have been ripped out in the fight for Lola; far too long to belong to James or any other-

Olive: Hold on, jimminy crispi-TSHCHIIIEWW. Sorry.

Chuck: Bless you.

Emerson: Thank you, Chuck. Anyway, the hair just needs to get to the lab and then we'll be able to smoke out-err, sneeze out those other employees.

[Bluebird]

Fern Fletcher of Fern Fletcher's Furry Friends? Really? That reminds me of when my mom was working, and she got this message:

"Hello, this is Mary Mims of Mims' Meats" XD

[sneezeloveyou]

You're so cute,thank you!

Mod Note: Trimmed quote ~Mute