Noir is the new black (Chapter 1: Spy kits and lawnmowers)
It was cold outside, cold and wet. The coldest day in Newshire in decades. Even the weathered overcoat could not keep the sharp nip at bay. The smoke of cigarettes long passed loomed above and the whisky soda lay flat and still. The shutters were drawn and the cold light of day streamed in spurts, sprinkled with a glitter of dust and soot from the fire.
I travel light and so do my friends, one a six string and the other a six shooter. I call me Sigmond, that right! With an 'ond', my parents had always had a tinge of irony in mind. What others know me by I can only guess. Ignorance is bliss.
I've been a singing shooting private eye for as long as I can remember. Cases have come and gone but I have remained. .... The radio clicks with the daily crime bulletins. Nothing new for Newshire a '91' here in the district and a '78A' along the bridge downtown.
It had been months since my last case. So long that I had almost forgotten the glory of being a private eye. It was almost as though the coppers were actually doing their job for once. Good news for tax payers and a scent of chaos and ruin for me. I had always hated the left and their pay hikes. Unionization of the police force .. more like organized tyranny.
I wasn't a man who was much into Horticulture, but I could not help but consider a career in 'Moth cultivation.' My geoshpere lay coy in the left pocket of my pants. No greens just a few pennies and a host of holes.
I'm not one who expects a timely lap dance from fate but, for some reason fate decided to bring along her whole troupe that day.
Her name was Daisy Dowrong. It almost seemed to be a cruel joke, maybe it was... ha. She was far from pretty and reminded me that the man in the skies had a sense of humor. But her skills of persuation were most definitely god sent.
It was a cold case something about a chap named Jack and his petite ami Jill. I was too over the hill to handle these cases, most of which ended with tyre tracks and limepits. I told her my busy schedule had no time to defrost the predicament she faced... I lied but I had to I was too old for this.
"Six thousand now and another six later" is all she said. ... She knew well the rules of poker. Men, money and whiskey, each lost without the other, and money my friend was greener than circumstantial doubt. I said "Yes" and the case was mine.
Miss Dasiy left the room, leaving me with my thoughts and a dossier of facts and fiction for me to decipher. I knew that by the end of it I would be sorry..... I picked up the phone and called Harry, then left the comfort of my den to face the weather....
It was cold outside, cold and wet. The coldest day in Newshire in decades. Even the weathered overcoat could not keep the sharp nip at bay. The smoke of cigarettes long passed loomed above and the whisky soda lay flat and still. The shutters were drawn and the cold light of day streamed in spurts, sprinkled with a glitter of dust and soot from the fire.
I travel light and so do my friends, one a six string and the other a six shooter. I call me Sigmond, that right! With an 'ond', my parents had always had a tinge of irony in mind. What others know me by I can only guess. Ignorance is bliss.
I've been a singing shooting private eye for as long as I can remember. Cases have come and gone but I have remained. .... The radio clicks with the daily crime bulletins. Nothing new for Newshire a '91' here in the district and a '78A' along the bridge downtown.
It had been months since my last case. So long that I had almost forgotten the glory of being a private eye. It was almost as though the coppers were actually doing their job for once. Good news for tax payers and a scent of chaos and ruin for me. I had always hated the left and their pay hikes. Unionization of the police force .. more like organized tyranny.
I wasn't a man who was much into Horticulture, but I could not help but consider a career in 'Moth cultivation.' My geoshpere lay coy in the left pocket of my pants. No greens just a few pennies and a host of holes.
I'm not one who expects a timely lap dance from fate but, for some reason fate decided to bring along her whole troupe that day.
Her name was Daisy Dowrong. It almost seemed to be a cruel joke, maybe it was... ha. She was far from pretty and reminded me that the man in the skies had a sense of humor. But her skills of persuation were most definitely god sent.
It was a cold case something about a chap named Jack and his petite ami Jill. I was too over the hill to handle these cases, most of which ended with tyre tracks and limepits. I told her my busy schedule had no time to defrost the predicament she faced... I lied but I had to I was too old for this.
"Six thousand now and another six later" is all she said. ... She knew well the rules of poker. Men, money and whiskey, each lost without the other, and money my friend was greener than circumstantial doubt. I said "Yes" and the case was mine.
Miss Dasiy left the room, leaving me with my thoughts and a dossier of facts and fiction for me to decipher. I knew that by the end of it I would be sorry..... I picked up the phone and called Harry, then left the comfort of my den to face the weather....
posted by Unknown at 4:43 AM
2 Comments:
vry very cool. put up the rest of it. and if there is no rest of it.. hurry up!
thanks thanks always need the egging on .... part 2 here it comes
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