Subtitle Ace Ventura: Pet Detective Now

"Lovely evening for a sacrifice, isn't it?" Ace barked, leaning inches from the woman’s face. "Excuse me?" she recoiled.

"Another case closed," he told the tabby cat, who had followed him out. "And I only lost one shoe to a snapping turtle. Re-he-he-he-ally good day's work!"

Ace stopped, squinted, and began making high-pitched clicking noises while flapping his elbows. "Listen, Mr. Tooth-y-Pants. I have your second cousin twice removed in a zippered format. You want him back? Show me where they’re keeping the stolen albino crawfish!" The alligator blinked, hissed, and swiped its tail.

"Alrighty then!" Ace shouted, diving over the beast. "Hardball it is!"

Ace Ventura sat in the back of a humid, neon-lit jazz club in New Orleans, nursing a bowl of sunflower seeds. He wasn’t there for the music; he was staring intently at a high-end alligator-skin handbag resting on the chair of a local socialite.

He tossed the purse to the alligator, who nudged it into the water, and hopped into his beat-up Chevy, leaving a trail of sunflower seed shells in his wake. If you’d like to see more of Ace, let me know: What should he rescue next? Should the story be longer or have more dialogue ?

He stood up, his Hawaiian shirt clashing violently with the velvet curtains. With a rhythmic, hip-thrusting strut, he approached the table.