Mike Hammer, P.I., in...
..."BLOOD SUGAR!"
My train was late getting here, thanks to the rain that seems to like following me every time I venture out of my dingy little one-room apartment. It rains in Los Angeles, it rains in New York, it rains in Chicago. It rains where there's murder and lowlifes. It rains.
Now it's raining on a pleasant little city nestled in a charming little valley because somebody called me, the big bad rain cloud, and told me to come and visit. I didn't want to. I'd heard of this place's reputation. I'd heard of the unsolved crimes and the rumors of corruption...but dammit, I had to come here.
There's been a murder in Candy Valley.
My train stops and I disembark, pulling the collar of my trench coat up a little higher to flip the proverbial middle finger to the proverbial Mother Nature. This is because when I flipped the actual, physical middle finger to the actual, eco-terrorist Mother Nature, she broke it for me. I told Terry that I couldn't solve a crime with one of my ten trigger fingers in a cast, but he never was a very good listener.
I walk down the sugar-coated street, reading signs that lead me to City Hall. I've still got precious few details about the murder, and the conversation I had with the chief of police over the phone made it clear that he thinks the city needs me like (another) hole in molar 46, so I need to go straight to the top.
I walk on into City Hall and say,
"Where's the Mayor?"
My train was late getting here, thanks to the rain that seems to like following me every time I venture out of my dingy little one-room apartment. It rains in Los Angeles, it rains in New York, it rains in Chicago. It rains where there's murder and lowlifes. It rains.
Now it's raining on a pleasant little city nestled in a charming little valley because somebody called me, the big bad rain cloud, and told me to come and visit. I didn't want to. I'd heard of this place's reputation. I'd heard of the unsolved crimes and the rumors of corruption...but dammit, I had to come here.
There's been a murder in Candy Valley.
My train stops and I disembark, pulling the collar of my trench coat up a little higher to flip the proverbial middle finger to the proverbial Mother Nature. This is because when I flipped the actual, physical middle finger to the actual, eco-terrorist Mother Nature, she broke it for me. I told Terry that I couldn't solve a crime with one of my ten trigger fingers in a cast, but he never was a very good listener.
I walk down the sugar-coated street, reading signs that lead me to City Hall. I've still got precious few details about the murder, and the conversation I had with the chief of police over the phone made it clear that he thinks the city needs me like (another) hole in molar 46, so I need to go straight to the top.
I walk on into City Hall and say,
"Where's the Mayor?"
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Comments
Well, when'll she be back?
Er, I mean a fine and an outstanding city like Candy Valley. Or something.
i get so angry sometimes i just punch plankton --Klinotaxis
Gus Chuggins wanted to spend New Year's in your fine city, ma'am. Now he's dead for it.