Thess
TNPer
Kansas City. The Big Apple. The windy music city of broad-shouldered lights. Sin City. Yeah. . . my town.
It was a day like any other since I first put out my shingle- Thess, detective-for-hire. It was cold, cold like a gut-shot mutt lying in a snowdrift on the side of the road. Maybe the furnace had conked out again, or maybe I just forgot to zip up when I left the restroom. I crossed my fingers and hoped for the best.
Still, there was no ignoring the cold. It was cold like winter in the Midwest. Come to think of it. . .
I spun around at the noise, drawing my gat. When you're in my business, you always got to be ready for trouble. And this dame was trouble all right. I knew that right away. Purple fur coat, pink ballerina skirt, Old West cap gun in a holster at her waist, the works. Her angry eyes looked out at me from behind icicles of red and yellow dyed hair, her boyish features turned up in a pout. "You're Thess, right?" she snipped in sultry voice. "That private dick who got run out of Chicago by Stairelli's goons?"
"Sit down," I grumbled, easing my heater back into its holster as I collapsed back into my chair. "You ain't in the wrong place." I poured myself a drink: Black Velvet, neat. With ice, Dr. Pepper and a little swizzlestick shaped like a pirate sword. "Now spill. What's a dame like you want with a gorilla like me?"
"Protection." The word slid too easily from her lips as she slipped into the chair across from me.
Oh yeah. She was trouble.
(Reminder: all of Thess's hard-boiled tales are guaranteed 100% true -at a slight angle- or your money back!)
It was a day like any other since I first put out my shingle- Thess, detective-for-hire. It was cold, cold like a gut-shot mutt lying in a snowdrift on the side of the road. Maybe the furnace had conked out again, or maybe I just forgot to zip up when I left the restroom. I crossed my fingers and hoped for the best.
Still, there was no ignoring the cold. It was cold like winter in the Midwest. Come to think of it. . .
I spun around at the noise, drawing my gat. When you're in my business, you always got to be ready for trouble. And this dame was trouble all right. I knew that right away. Purple fur coat, pink ballerina skirt, Old West cap gun in a holster at her waist, the works. Her angry eyes looked out at me from behind icicles of red and yellow dyed hair, her boyish features turned up in a pout. "You're Thess, right?" she snipped in sultry voice. "That private dick who got run out of Chicago by Stairelli's goons?"
"Sit down," I grumbled, easing my heater back into its holster as I collapsed back into my chair. "You ain't in the wrong place." I poured myself a drink: Black Velvet, neat. With ice, Dr. Pepper and a little swizzlestick shaped like a pirate sword. "Now spill. What's a dame like you want with a gorilla like me?"
"Protection." The word slid too easily from her lips as she slipped into the chair across from me.
Oh yeah. She was trouble.
(Reminder: all of Thess's hard-boiled tales are guaranteed 100% true -at a slight angle- or your money back!)
