Mike Tyson Mysteries

Oh, man! Look at all these pigeons in here, man!

We getting behind again.

Okay, guys, listen up!

Marquess, you scared the bejesus outta me, man.

Why you gotta be creepin'?

Oh, sorry. Did it do that thing with the explosion and the smoke again?

I swear, I am not doing it intentionally.

Dad, when are you going to look at these with me?

-Look at what? -College catalogs.

I have to apply soon.

Not now, baby, a pigeon just brought in a new message.

Hey, guys! Every one of them has a message

from someone that needs our help solving a mystery.

Maybe before we take on the next mystery,

we solve the mystery of figuring out

how to turn me back into a human being.

I mean, I have an actual interest in solving that mystery,

unlike every other one.

You deserved to be turned into a pigeon by your wife,

because you're disgusting.

Ex-wife. And you don't know anything about relationships,

you little home-schooled weirdo.

Well, I think the most obvious mystery to solve is who is my mother,

and why did she leave me on Mike Tyson's doorstep when I was a baby?

Probably because she didn't want you.

There. Mystery solved.

You're an asshole.

I'm-- You're an asshole.

She's not an "asshole."

And that's not how you talk around a young lady.

Why are you still here?

You got what you wanted.

He's no fun, he doesn't party, he doesn't beat up random people...

You basically turned him into you,

except he's not a closeted homosexual.

You know what? Fuck you.

That's it, team, now we're all on the same page!

Okay, let's see what mystery we have to solve this week.

Man, that's a lot of words.

"The cedar was damp and wouldn't light.

A coyote yapped somewhere in the arroyo."

Oh, my God, it goes on forever like this.

What the hell?

It's from Cormac McCarthy.

-Who? -Cormac McCarthy.

Pulitzer Prize winner. Famously reclusive.

Why is Carma McArthur a reclusive author?

Did his face burn off in a fire and he has a metal face

and everyone is scared of his face?

No.

Or maybe he's really a robot or a mythological creature

like a horse man.

I bet that's the mystery.

Cormac McCarthy is not a centaur. That is not the mystery.

I didn't say centaur, I said horse man.

It says he can't find an ending to the book he's writing.

And he thought he'd turn to a retired boxer for help?

So, the actual mystery is when did Cormac McCarthy lose his mind.

C'mon, it's time to get in the Mystery Mobile and go help

Cormac McCarthy write an ending to his book!

I can't go. I have an Internet whore coming over tonight.

You know, the second they see you're a pigeon,

they're not going to have sex with you.

Eh, every once in a while they do.

Get off your ass, Pigeon! Just like that old song says,

"Ain't got no time for bird sex, I gotta fly".

Okay, that can't be a song.

Yeah that was a song. Ain't Got No Time for Bird Sex, man.

Hmm. Here's an interesting fact.

Although many people pronounce it "Pewlitzer,"

the correct pronunciation is actually "Pullitzer."

You really think that's an interesting fact? Really?

Like you really think that's interesting?

Because the fact that you really think that's interesting,

is the interesting fact.

Whoa, cowboy.

My god, what are you wearing?

The man writes about cowboys and shit.

Can we please look at these?

Is that the book we're supposed to be putting an ending on?

No, they're college catalogues.

You said you'd look at them with me.

Not now! We're in the middle of a damn mystery.

And I don't know how I feel about you going away to college!

Well, we have to talk about it at some point.

I'm eighteen!

Eighteen?

Where did the time go?

I remember it like it was yesterday.

You were just a little baby but you told me,

"Stop living for yourself."

Um... Okay, I hate to be a bitch, but babies can't talk.

We know that, right?

Just so we're clear, I was the one who told you

to stop living for yourself, that's all.

Oh. That's gross that you thought you had to say that.

Ah, Señor Tyson!

Hey, Gortog McCrappy, great meeting you.

No, I'm Rafael. I work for Mr. McCarthy.

And I'm afraid he can't join you this evening.

It's the writer's block.

He has never had it like this.

These are copies of his new book.

I beg of you. Help him find an ending.

Now, I must leave you.

For there's a Chupacabra Moon out tonight.

A Capachapa Moon?