-=Dark_Angel=-, P.I.12 Aug 2004

It was a grey morning, but all I could see anywhere was green.

Some sap called Rogers was paying me twice my actual rate to track down his ex-wife, name of Blimpo Toots. Rogers said she'd accidentally grown a beard one morning, checked the mailbox at the wrong time, and then just vanished into the seedy world of backstreet tuba shows. Not as uncommon as you might think, especially not for a girl like Toots, who according to Rogers could blow a Negro through a thirty-foot chimney and still have enough breath to ask for seconds.

I took her photo out of the file and scraped off some of the crust. Yeah, she was a nice-looking broad, but nothing special. I tried to imagine her with a thick black beard bulging out of her cheeks. Well, ho-ly shit. If the Puff-up in my chaps meant anything, Toots'd be halfway to Humpsville by now, riding the cackrails on a rickety asswagon named 'Uncle Sam' with no brakes and a four liter negro injection.