December 8, 2006

The Big Scam Down in Lazytown

Filed under: Our World — boomaga @ 9:49 am

Ridiculously Attributed to Daschel Hammet

It was one of those nights in Rejkyavik where the sun just refuses to go down, and all the long bright shadows of garbage cans in alleyways turn noir to blanc. In other words, it was summer.

All the con artists and grifters, all the damsels and gunsels, and the hapless heels and flatfeet, were all wandering around the steaming heart of the Big City in a half-asleep daze, watching the cracks in the pavement for a vente macchiato to spring up, or for some geothermal vent to reveal a path to the center of the earth that would just swallow them up whole. This happens a lot, actually. Half the time when I’m hot on the trail of a missing person, he’s fallen into a hole in the ground. Or choked on a herringbone.

Meanwhile, I had done my walking alone for the evening, and I was just pouring myself the first two fingers of breakfast. I’m on this all-liquid diet. A whiskey-shake for breakfast, a whiskey-shake for lunch, and a sensible whiskey-dinner.

That’s when SHE walked in…

From a distance I would’ve pegged her as typical cheap Pink Trash. Her tights and bright green shoes and cheap-glued eyelashes said she could be had for the price of a pretty cake. But there was something about the wiggle in her woggle and twinkle in her eye that brought a tingle to my pants-area.

… (at this point the box of wine runs out, and I decide I’m no goddamned detective scribbler.  I’m going back to work at the cannery.)


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