Daniel Burt

I was honoured to participate in Fan Fiction Comedy at this year’s MICF. Being a fan of the TV show Dexter, I decided to use it as a base upon which to write a fictional comedy story. I think that’s how it works.

[WARNING: contains traces of pure bloody nonsense] 

Matthew Newton opened his eyes. He felt groggy, as if awaking from a drug-induced coma. In other words, he felt pretty normal.

This time, however, something was amiss. He was used to regaining consciousness on a bed, or sprawled on carpet, or slumped with his spine pressed uncomfortably against the metal poles of a police cell. Paradoxically, for Matthew, there was something familiar about waking up in unfamiliar places.

This sensation was something else entirely. Matthew was strapped to a table in a floodlit room. He tried to move his head but couldn’t. In his peripheral vision, he could just make out the walls. They were lined with plastic tarpaulin. Newton had heard about the dire state of US health care but couldn’t believe he was in a hospital so dilapidated. “Wait until my lawyer hears about this,” he thought. For a guy who couldn’t move his arms, Newton was starting to feel a little punchy.

The last thing Newton could remember was leaving a Miami night club. He had exited with the insouciant swagger of a man who thought he was anonymous. But there was at least one man in Miami that night who knew who Matthew Newton was - Dexter Morgan.

As Newton lay on the table, his synapses firing to make sense of the scenario, a figure stepped into view. Noticing Newton was awake, the man spoke.

“Thank God You’re Here!” said Dexter.

It was an Australian pop culture reference to the improvised TV comedy program created by Working Dog Productions and in which Newton featured regularly. Dexter had been looking forward to the quip all day. He smirked at his own cleverness, knowing it to be appreciated by no-one except his dark passenger and a handful of people in the Melbourne Town Hall.

For years, Dexter had abided by a code devised for him by his foster father Harry, who had noticed early on that his son was a bit of a handful/serial killer. Harry’s code stipulated that Dexter could only kill murderers who had got away with it, a helpful tip designed to guide Dexter through the moral ambiguities of being a psycho.

 But due to Dexter’s dedication and success - and Miami’s relatively small population of 400,000 – Dexter had officially run out of murderers to kill and so had recently resorted to ending the lives of those who had merely pissed him off. 

There was that guy on the jet ski who obnoxiously kept riding too close to the shore, the ticket inspector who refused to show even a modicum of discretion despite all of Dexter’s well-worded and persuasive letters, and that prick in the SUV with the ‘fuck off we’re full’ bumper sticker. Dexter had let his standards slip, and it felt good.

Not long ago, Dexter had tried to put Ben Cousins out of his misery when he passed through Miami for rehab. On that night, Dexter had crept up behind Cousins and injected into his neck a heady dose of Etorphine hydrochloride. But much to Dexter’s surprise, the tranquilizer had no effect whatsoever. Rather than passing out, Cousins simply turned around and thanked the strange man for the come down.

As a way of blending in, Dexter had suppressed his antisocial inclinations and spent his entire life mimicking what he learned to be acceptable behaviour, which is a similar technique employed by comedians.

He was emotionally neutered and ethically an empty vessel and also a mixed metaphor (there has to be one in every piece of fan fiction). So to infuse his murderous impulses with some moral dimension, Dexter took to prosecuting vendettas on behalf of those close to him…

His son Harrison, aged three, had been a fan of the Wiggles for most of his life. Being obsessed with their music and television output, Harrison had forged in his mind a special bond with the yellow Wiggle.

One day, the yellow Wiggle whom Harrison had grown to know and love was ousted in a Wiggle spill, which sounds like a gay term, but is actually when one man in a skivvy replaces another man in a skivvy to play with Captain Feathersword.

Harrison had only known Sam, the replacement yellow Wiggle, and was shocked to see him thrown out by some old guy called Greg who looked ill, which is bad enough without being dressed in yellow.

Harrison was distraught and cried for weeks, which would have upset Dexter no end, if he was ever at home and not at Costco buying plastic wrap and garbage bags in bulk. The nanny finally passed on the reason why Harrison was upset, and Dexter immediately sprang into action and set about plotting the murder of this yellow interloping prick.

Dexter methodically researched the case on his iPhone while parallel parking at Costco. He discovered a catalogue of deception and dirty Wiggle politicking. It was while pushing a trolley full of bleach back to the car that Dexter decided that it was time for that yellow skivvy to turn red. Unfortunately, the Wiggles weren’t touring Miami until next year…

In the meantime, Matthew Newton lay before Dexter, naked. It was nothing Dexter hadn’t seen before. After all, he’d watched Underbelly: A Tale of Two Titties for research.

Realising the gravity of the situation, Matthew pleaded for mercy and announced in desperation that his father was the legendary Bert Newton and his mother the adorable Patti. Dexter knew this, of course, and so, unperturbed, leaned in to slice Matthew’s cheek for a blood sample.

“Please let me live!” ejaculated Matthew, using the 18^th century meaning of the term. “I see now the error of my ways.”

“Please,” said Dexter. “I heard all this when you were on A Current Affair.”

Matthew continued, “I’m serious. My journey has not been my own. Showbusiness is for others. It is clear now that I do not want to follow in my father’s footsteps.”

This admission resonated with Dexter, his greatest fear being that his son might be destined to tread the destructive path laid down by his own monster father.

In a rare moment of indecision, Dexter vacillated with his scalpel and made a small incision above Newton’s right eyebrow. Dexter thought he might live to regret this, but decided to let Matthew go.

“I’m giving you a second chance”, said Dexter, “Don’t blow it”.

Dexter knew that if Newton mentioned anything about the encounter, people would just dismiss it as him being off his meds.

That night, Matthew Newton’s mug shot appeared on the television news. The red mark above his right eye being a private testament to yet another squandered chance.