This is it. I've finally completed Doratio Kane and the Hummus of Horror. For those of you who don't know what I'm talking about, Doratio Kane is a character played by Donte Greene in one of his "Donte Green Show" sketches, (Video Here) and I wrote this fanpost back in July to write a few humorous* stories of Donte playing his Doratio character. About two months late, I'm finally done, and its time to share the adventure with you all. So here it is, part 1 of Doratio Kane and the Hummus of Horror. Enjoy. Or don't. I don't really care**, you could call it crap*** if you want.
** Yes I do
***Please don't, I'll cry
Somewhere a phone was ringing.
Donté Greene woke up with a shiver. He'd been having another bad dream. Faces flittered in and out of his head, Natt, Napear... Jackson. Donté shivered again. Just a dream.
The phone was still ringing though. Donté looked at the clock. 4:30 in the morning. That could only mean one thing. Someone needed Kane. He picked up the phone.
"Is this Detective Doratio Kane?", a familiar voice said. Donté, now acting as his alter ego Doratio Kane, Private Investigator, could not place the voice.
"This is Kane. Who is this?"
"Kaney! What's up? It's me Kenny! Kenny Thomas!"
Inwardly, Donté groaned.
"I thought I told you not to call me unless you actually needed my services Kenny."
"Well, ya I know, but I was just sitting here on my gold-plated couch, practicing for next season you know, and I was bored so I thought I'd call you. What's up? How you been?"
"I'm going back to sleep. Don't call again Kenny."
"Awww, but its so lone..."
I'm gonna need to change my number soon if he keeps calling me, Donté thought to himself. He rolled back over and went back to sleep. Well, he tried to at least.
It was a tough life, living part-time as a stud basketball player for the Sacramento Kings, and the other half as a private eye, but it combined his two loves and gave him a suitable cover, not to mention a nice paycheck. Why a Private Eye of all things though? Donté wondered that himself sometimes. And it kept coming back to his mother. She used to be NSA, until the incident. Ever since then he'd been looking for clues, to find out what happened. And he would. So he adopted an alter ego, Doratio Kane. He played basketball, as his cover. He shot first, asked questions later. Same with basketball. By the time he was done in Syracuse, all the clues he had gathered pointed to Sacramento.
So he entered the NBA draft, got drafted by Memphis, forced a trade to Houston by giving Michael Heisley 10 dollars and began preparations to be traded to Sacramento. He had an associate travel to Sacramento at night and utilizing the mental instability of one Ron Artest, left a rap album with subliminal messages about being traded to Houston. Then during the Vegas Summer League, he decided to drop 40 points in a game that Kings General Manager Geoff Petrie was watching. Soon after Donté was traded to Sacramento in a package trade for Ron Artest, and nobody was the wiser on how much he was involved.
And he had been there ever since. But he hadn't gotten closer to his goal. His investigations yielded nothing. So he would stay in Sacramento until he found his next clue. He would avenge his mother.
Donté fell back to an uncomfortable sleep as these memories washed over him.
He woke with a start as his alarm's shrill tones blared at him in the early morning. Sighing, Donté turned off the alarm and rubbed his eyes. He got up and turned the television on as he began to prepare his breakfast.
"... and recently several prominent buildings throughout the city have been defaced with pictures or quotes from the popular television show the Simpsons. The vandal, only known by his signature, 214, has not yet been found. In sports news today, tragedy hits our Sacramento Kings, as first round pick Omri Casspi was found lying on the floor of his hotel room comatose. No word yet on what exactly is wrong with him. Casspi was the 23rd pick in the ..."
Donté's spoon dropped, all thoughts of his delicious Lifeä cereal left behind. Omri was his teammate. He had just met the guy the other day and nothing had seemed wrong. Something did not add up.
Donté picked up the phone and dialed his contact at the Sacramento Police Department.
"This is Sergeant Sims, what can I do you for?"
"Andy, its Kane. What's going on with Casspi?"
"Well, well, guess you heard the news. Well not much to know, lil Zohan ‘ere was scheduled for a meeting, he didn't show, we get called to see if anythings wrong, and boom, he's lying on the carpet like he'd been hit with one of them electric guns. Hasn't moved a muscle since. We got him over at Sutter medical right now and the docs are doing some tests."
"I need to get inside that apartment Andy, conduct an investigation"
"Ya well that might be tough, we got forensics going in there in a couple hours. You close by? I could probably buy you a half hour"
"Thanks Andy that's all I need"
Quickly hanging up the phone, he donned his jacket and most importantly his sunglasses. Not only were these glasses stylish, but they were also equipped with thermal, night vision, and magnification lenses. Plus the chicks digged them.
On the way to the hotel, Donté could not help but wonder who would want to harm Omri? He hadn't even played an NBA game yet. It was just too weird. But he'd find out. He always did.
Reaching the hotel he parked the car and headed straight for the lobby. He spotted Sims standing with a few officers. Sims looked up and caught Donté's eye. He whispered something to his partners and headed over.
"Alright kid, we got the place on lockdown. It's the 3rd floor, room 318. Don't be long and don't screw anything up, or its my ass", he said, handing Donté a keycard.
Time to do work, thought Donté as he walked to the elevator.
As far as hotel rooms went, there wasn't too much out of the ordinary with this one. Bedroom, bathroom, living area, nothing too special. It wasn't the Palms that's for sure. Donté paced the room looking for any evidence of possible foul play, yet there seemed to be nothing out of place. Omri's bags were still in the bedroom and his bed was unmade. On the kitchen table there was a bag of pita chips and a container of hummus that looked to be homemade. And it probably was too, since Omri just came back from Israel. Omri and his hummus. Donté detested the stuff, but Omri couldn't live without it. He remembered when Omri had talked him into trying some in Vegas. He brushed his teeth twice that night to get the taste out of his mouth. Still though, someone might have poisoned it, so he scooped out a little sample and put it away in his pockets. He'd analyze it later.
Donté was perplexed though. There was no sign of forced entry at all or signs of a struggle. Omri's bags merely contained some clothes and other stuff. He walked through the rooms again, checking to make sure he hadn't missed anything. And then out of the corner of his eye, he saw an opened envelope on the dresser. Donté, ever careful, took out his tweezers and picked up the letter. He adjusted his glasses to magnify. The outside of the envelope was unmarked other than Omri's name written in flowery letters. Maybe its one of those chicks Omri kept talking about picking up back from Israel. Donté looked at his watch though. He didn't have much time and soon forensics would be here, so he gingerly placed the letter in a Ziploc bag and placed it in his pocket. This would have to do for evidence. Time to get this stuff back to the lab.
TO BE CONTINUED 9/28/09