A few weeks ago, I won a writing contest on a blog run by the talented artist rtisan (you can see my gorgeous prize in a post about the contest below). Well, I ran a link to the winning essay and figured that was enough, but a writer friend told me I should run it on my blog. It really didn't seem necessary to me, it was just a little riff on noir detective fiction (incorporating a list of words rtisan provided).
On the other hand, I haven't posted in a few days, and this is ready to go. Enjoy!
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If it weren’t for the torrential rains and that damn wiener dog, sitting in the middle of the doorway like he owned the place, I would have kept on going and never would have noticed the dame in the galoshes. I mean, she wasn’t much too look at, standing there in that disgusting gray overcoat, her complexion like peanut butter and jelly. Grape jelly.
“Got a light?” she said, in a voice that reminded me of Carrotop on coke. She stuck an umbrella out and blocked my way. I tried to weave around it, but she hooked me around the ankle and pulled tight.
“Hey, gumshoe,” she said. “I’m talking to you.”
I turned to look at her then. She had a nose like a stiletto, a mouth like a head of cauliflower. “Kind of a stormy night, ain’t it?” she said, and I could tell that she was coming onto me. “What of it?” I said, trying to maintain my usual swagger but she unnerved me, this dame. I knew what she wanted, and I knew that in the end I would give it to her.
I always had a soft spot for peanut butter and jelly.