scoobdog

Franky had been mixing the ammonia and the bleach again. I couldn't tell if it was the toxic cloud or the smell of dead rats that was making my eyes water. Maybe a little bit of both. Frank, as usual, was too engrossed in that new fangled transistor radio, listening to Michael Savage, to pay attention to me or the chemistry experiment gone wrong in his toilet.

I had to act quickly. Franky had seen better days, to be honest, and he was getting a little senile. He had his stories about traveling to far away places like San Antonio, and San Jose, and 1935. And that rattail..... But, on the good days, nothing got past those beady little eyes. If something stunk in Atlantic City, you can bet Frank could make 1+1=1/2. If we could just get him out of the dumpster.... I picked up the phone and called my trusted side kick ghostrek2[/member] .....

I only had one lead, some schmuck that worked the Taj Mahal. He was a real sad sack of a man, spent his days fingering these half naked Japanese girl figurines. I knew if I could lean on him, he'd get met the goods. All it would cost me was case of Tejava and a magnet set.

No, Kenny. This is our thread now. You just shut up and enjoy or else we're sending you to the old folks home Disney World.

I've heard that name before. Dirtier than a ... toilet at El Torito on Taco Tuesday. "You talking about the union boss?" I could see a shiver run down her spine, dampening the carpet beneath her. "If he knew I was here, he'd run me through the ringer...."

After a long pause, she leaned over my desk, letting her damp locks drip orangish stains on the stack of bills. "Let me tell you Eddie. I've kept my ear to the ground and poked it into a few dark places, and something in this town stinks."

It's really rude when you interrupt story tellers in the midst of their craft.

Hey! Keep it going.....

Well shit. It was 94 on Saturday at the Coliseum, but at least it was dry 94.

Dats hot.

The urine-soaked singles told me she was bad news. But I couldn't get those cotton...y locks cascading over her shoulders (?) out of my head.

She tried to hide it with her pretty smile, but I could tell smell she'd seen her way through a few private booths in her day.

In walked this dame. She was a real country girl; I could see through the pretty flora frock that she had legs for miles.

Bad news. Your doctor and the union pres are in cahoots.

Have a good time, man.

No one wants your themes, dude.

Stop using literally wrong.

And you just got here too. What a shame.

Tic looks kind of flaming....

I dunno, thief. What's illicit?

He's going to have to have his brother broker a few more deals in illicit cases of soda pop.

Except his very relieved employer.

You're dying in AC.

Happy Birthday! You're not dead yet! Yay!