CheekBuster Chronicles

The Clapping Begins

It was a cold september morning, a haze about the air, as the CheekBuster Tim-Tim The Third took his daily walk.
After all, he was out here to fight crime in the streets, and crime in the sheets.
But enough of that now.
This strange man pulled out a silver flask in the shape of a chode , and emptied about half of the damned thing in his coffee. Now what this was , is whiskey. After all, whiskey and a fresh brew are the best things to warm one up in the morning.
Let's get fris-kay.
He also diabetes by the way. Type 1, that real man shit. So he also popped some pills to moderate his sugars like a responsible law enforcer.
Today's mystery... The Missing Thot.
A local pimp had come to him to let him know his reports of STDs from clients went down, which means Thotiana Thiccness hadn't been workin'. He had went to her apartment and found it empty of life, but obviously inhabited.
So where had she gone?
This sounded like a job for the Cheekbuster.

Timothy straightened his bleached white fedora with a black bow tie (yes I know it looks fucking gey, but let the man be happy, mkay?) And smirked, downing his coffee. With a crack of his knuckles and a skip in his step, he headed off.