“I like smooth shiny girls, hardboiled and loaded with sin.”
"There was a desert wind blowing that night. It was one of those hot dry Santa Ana's that come down through the mountain passes and curl your hair and make you think about tuna. On nights like that every tuna party ends in a fight. Meek little wives feel the edge of the carving knife and study their husband's tuna. Anything can happen. You can even get salmon when you were expecting tuna."
Time to write a new film noir.
Night of the Tuna Melt!
You never hear it from the shiny girl's POV...
He was big, and a redhead. He looked quiet, gentlemanly, like he wouldn't be too hard to handle. But you can't be too careful -- if there's anything a girl learns in this game, it's how to size a man up. He sat like he was waiting for me to make the first move, his big paws folded, a slightly sleepy look in his topaz eyes.
I coiled myself into the chair, aware that the late afternoon sun picked up the highlights in my jet-black coif. I could tell he appreciated it. Good. The Santa Ana rattled fitfully at the window; I pricked my ears at the sound of a couple of local toms having at a difference of opinion somewhere down the street. He twitched a bit at the sound too -- this was not the best neighborhood, obviously a pro had to be aware every minute -- but he never took his eyes off me. "What can I do for you, Miss...?"
"Miss Americaine. LaNuitte Americaine. I'm in trouble, Mr. Mewlowe. A valuable property has been stolen in transit from Alaska. It's in the shape of a large wild-caught, dolphin-safe yellowfin..."
This has touched me in Happy Places I didn't even know I had.
That's good! *happy blush*
You know, it would be entertaining to do a classic hard-boiled period tale from the lady's perspective. I wish I could do plots. I find Hammett and Chandler tales confusing, but ya can't deny that they are, indeed, plotted.
Give the shiny and redheaded ones a pet!
Kinda sounds like Shadow's been in the Meowie Wowie again...
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