[solitary saxophone, mournfully playing in the background; the sound of plodding footsteps; camera down to street level, revealing dimly lit, wet pavement. Trousers, slightly too long, covering worn, black shoes]
"It was a foggy night in 'Frisco, but they all are, aren't they? I had ambled up Lombard, mostly to watch the tourists from Kansas laugh idiotically as they drove it. Another late one, but I still needed to check in at the office before heading back to the apartment. Yeah, what I stupidly call home. I could hear the phone ringing as I mounted the stairs."
[camera to frosted office window: Thompson Investigations]
"The smell of stale cigarette smoke and cheap whiskey greeted me as the door creaked open, but even more surprising were the pair of gams draped over the davenport. And then, there was that crooning voice I hadn't heard in years."
-Hiya, hon. Ain't ya gonna give me a squeeze for old times?
-Listen, dollface. I ain't got time for this. How'd ya get in here, anyway?
-What's the matter? Them no good coppers still complainin' about you stickin' your nose into police business?
-Where I stick my nose is my business. How long has it been, doll?
-Perhaps this will refresh your memory . . .
"She held up a worn, leather wallet and a library card. Nick Fugate, it read.
"It was a foggy night in 'Frisco, but they all are, aren't they? I had ambled up Lombard, mostly to watch the tourists from Kansas laugh idiotically as they drove it. Another late one, but I still needed to check in at the office before heading back to the apartment. Yeah, what I stupidly call home. I could hear the phone ringing as I mounted the stairs."
[camera to frosted office window: Thompson Investigations]
"The smell of stale cigarette smoke and cheap whiskey greeted me as the door creaked open, but even more surprising were the pair of gams draped over the davenport. And then, there was that crooning voice I hadn't heard in years."
-Hiya, hon. Ain't ya gonna give me a squeeze for old times?
-Listen, dollface. I ain't got time for this. How'd ya get in here, anyway?
-What's the matter? Them no good coppers still complainin' about you stickin' your nose into police business?
-Where I stick my nose is my business. How long has it been, doll?
-Perhaps this will refresh your memory . . .
"She held up a worn, leather wallet and a library card. Nick Fugate, it read.
1 comment:
That's hiLARious!
In the _real life_ further adventures, my (unlocked) car's glove compartment was rifled through last night in my garage. Papers were spilled across the seat and out the car door. (cue Perry Mason theme)
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