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Aaalrighty then ...
"Farewell, My Lovely Big Sleep in the Lake"
A Chandler pastiche by Turtleballs and Whisky Priestess
Characters: (to be read as stage directions)
Frankie Bacon – a worn-out private dick with a drinking habit so long they call him Sister Glenfiddich.
Tallulah Strumpet – the kind of gal you see hangin’ off other fellas’ arms when they oughter be hangin’ on your lips.
Mary Halfewicz – a worn out private dick’s secretary. She got a voice you could cut concrete with and nails to match.
Scene:
The run-down office of a hard-up gumshoe who’s more gum than shoe. The secretary, Mary, whose hair is a shade of blonde you only see on Dulux colour charts, sits at her desk, chewing bubblegum and shaping her nails with a large industrial file. Bacon enters.
Bacon: (to audience) It was a cold, damp day in Kentish Town. I went into the shabby little office I call Hell and greeted the staff. (To Mary) Hi. Any calls?
Mary: Only the phone company.
Bacon: (to audience) I’d done some work for their head honcho, Alex G. Bell, a few months ago – a little case of retrieving an unfortunate voicemail message left while drunk. (To Mary) What did they want?
Mary: To cut us off.
Bacon: Oh. (pours whisky. To audience) I poured myself a shot of Ol' Grandad from the office bottle for no reason at all. (To Mary) Got any gum, chum?
Mary removes the bubblegum from her mouth and hands it to him
Mary: This do ya?
Bacon plugs a hole in his shoe with it.
Bacon: (To audience) Old habits die hard. I headed into the dingy little room that my secretary refers to as my inner sphinctum. She’s a little dipsolexic. My desk was littered with mail, the usual sort of unwanted ads that clutter up a shamus's office.
Reads from a circular
“Tell the personality of your correspondent based on a scientific analysis of his choice of fonts, only three dollars per page.” It didn't take much science for me to know this gee was screwy. As I watched the rain fall on the diner below, I thought to take another slug from the bottle. Then I heard something in the office outside.
Tallulah enters the outer office.
I didn’t get my hopes up that it was a client. Last time I had another person in my office was when the Health Inspector came round to condemn the building.
Tallulah:Is this a detective agency?
Maey: That’s what it says on the door.
Tallulah:No, the door says Gerald and Sons, Petfood Wholesale. But I thought what the hell, the dog hasn’t been fed for a few days, and decided to take a chance.
Mary: You want coffee?
Tallulah:No thank you.
Mary: That’s lucky.
Tallulah:I’ll see myself through, shall I?
Mary: No-one else is gonna watch ya.
Bacon: (To audience) Then she walked in. She had a full set of curves with 50 per cent extra free, and hair the colour of an expensive dye job. She was giving me a look I could feel in my hip pocket.
Tallulah: Got a slug of rye in there for me?
Bacon: Unfortunately it was the wrong hip pocket. I handed her my flask and a cigarette.
Tallulah: Thanks. Are you Marlowe?
Bacon: Marlowe? Now what would a nice guy like me be doing with a name like that? No, I'm Bacon, Frank Bacon. I wrote Edward II and Shakespeare's plays too.' (To audience) I laughed. She didn’t. Life’s like that sometimes.
Tallulah: Can the ham, Bacon. I got a job for you that’ll make your eyes pop out on stalks and give your wallet a weight problem. Do you want it or not?
Bacon: Uh-huh. Sure. But I get 25 dollars a day, plus expenses - mostly whisky and bus fare.
Tallulah: Great. I’ll be in touch.
Bacon: (To audience) Grinding her cigarette out on her heel, she turned away and started for the exit, limping slightly. As I stood drinking her and some bourbon in, she stopped and leaned coolly on the doorframe.
Tallulah:If you need anything else just pick up the phone and blow in my ear. You know how to blow, don't you?
Bacon: Sure. You just put your lips together and whistle. (Pause. To audience) It sounded better in my head.
To be continued … |
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