Jack Patch
Familiar Face
- Messages
- 52
- Location
- Chicago
Always wanted to be a detective in the 30's or 40's. This town need a well dressed cop?
Always wanted to be a detective in the 30's or 40's. This town need a well dressed cop?
A .38, pack of lucky strikes and a fedora. Ready for duty.
You also need the appropriate music:
[video=youtube;vG9jkM4kB08]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vG9jkM4kB08[/video]
...and a sarcastic, skeptical deadpan voiceover track...
It was Friday night and the rain was pouring outside. I sat alone in my office huffin' on my latest pack of smokes. The clock said four thirty, but it looked like nine. With summer rain and heat and thunder, came the summer pace of crime. Too damn hot to do anything but pinch bags and hustle at pool. Nothing worthwile for me to pay attention to. Behind, a radio was playin' some drowsy track that was lulling me to sleep faster than a shot of chloroform.
The track ended on the radio and some sort of news-report came on. I heard a car pull up outside, the gleam from its lights bouncing off the road and jumping all the way up to my office on the first floor. The lights turned off, a door slammed, and I heard the 'click-click-click' of shoes. A door opened, a door slammed. The hollow clunk of more shoes. A pause. More shoes. A stop. A ruffling of an umbrella being closed and a buzzing sound.
"Come in!"
There she was. Wearing some dark hat with a brim so wide she could grow a whole orchard on it, never mind the fake fruit salad that she had up there already. She was wearing a sort of wine-red dress trimmed with some fuzzy stuff. She took off her hat and dark red curls poured out and jiggled and bounced around her shoulders. She hung the hat and the umbrella on the rack.
"Good evening", I said. "Can I help with the coat?"
"Thank you, no. But you could help with this", she said. "You are Mr. Steele?"
"Says the name on the door".
"Good. I want you to find this man".
She sat down on one of the few other chairs in the room, and opened her handbag, a black, shiny leather thing that looked like it was made of imitation crocodile. She closed the lid with a 'click' that sounded just like the jaws of the real thing, and put a photograph on my desk. I turned it over. 'July, '42' was written on the back.
"I haven't seen him since that photograph was taken. It was just before he shipped out. Could you find him?"
"The war's been over two years. It'll be hard".
"Well try..."
Life would be better is everyone had their own theme music that played when they entered a room.
I need two closets that size.I need a closet that size. The suit and hat collection would be nice too.
Yes, it just got past the Board of Zoning last night.Now we've got a hotel!
Bridlington, UK
I think Lizzie already runs the Willoughby Post.I will happily contribute a weekly column to the paper. *cranks paper into his typewriter*