Tuesday, March 8, 2005

   Six days... and a glimpse at what I write like.
Doi... I'm gettin' antsy! The 14th is so close!! I can feel my teeth all ready startin' to hurt! ::sighs::
This post is short on account I'm kinda cold now. It's cold outside too. I'm also trying to finish this chapter for "The Consequences of Sin" (FAKE) fic! I'm tryin' to write it like one of those suspense scenes where TONS of shit happens all at once, but there's this HUGE ASS pause that drives you nutz! I dunno how to make it come out right! ::growls in frustration:: "The Final Victor" (Ronin Warriors) is on hold again, for now... at least until I get over the teeth extraction.

Tick... tick... tick...

Friggin' clock... Movin' so slow. I just wanna get this over with! Sorry. I've never had to deal with surgery or the fact that I'll be in an obscene amount of pain in the near future before. Kinda look I've got A.D.D. Friggin' hyper! DAH! I'm acting like Tweak from South Park!
Calm. CAAAAAAAAALM. I'm goin ta bed now...
Oh, here's a snippet of "The Consquences of Sin". Enjoy! :

Dee sighed. He kept bringing up profiles and mug shots of every “John Smith” the database. He was on page thirty of one hundred pages. Drake peered over his shoulder. “Dude, man, I’m telling you, you’re not gonna find this-“

“Well, well, well…” Dee smirked and enlarged the photo. “ Here’s Johnny!”
“Holy crap, you found him! Ugh… Looks like hell.”
“This is from… two years ago. Arrested for… hmm, sexual assault on a female… thirteen. Interesting…” he smirked. “Wonder if he has an alibi for the night the victim was killed.” Drake pulled out his notepad from last night.
“The address checks out…”

“Printing,” Dee began. “… Print, print, PRINT, ah goddamn piece of crap!!” Dee snarled as the computer locked up. “Could it kill the Chief tell the department about the serious technological problem around here? Christ, no wonder we have to search mug shots by hand. That explains the low arrest record here. Son of a bitch!!” He rebooted the computer.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” Rose greeted as he passed by Dee’s desk. “Laytner, you’re your usual colorful self this morning.” Dee didn’t look up as he stared at the hard drive on screen as it rebooted.
“No more than your fruity self, ya queer,” he muttered to himself. Berkley raised an eyebrow.
“Care to repeat that, Laytner?”
“… No, sir,” Dee sighed, tapping in his password lazily.
“You two find anything?” Berkeley asked. Drake glanced at the computer. Dee wasn’t going to find the file anytime in the next thirty seconds. He opened his notepad again.
“Uh, last night around… when was it, Dee?”
“Sometime after midnight.”
“Right, Anyway we spotted some midnight jogger-”
“’Midnight jogger’? In Central Park?? In this crime wave??” Berkeley asked in disbelief.
“Yep… ‘John Smith lives on the corner of Cherry and Clinton.”
“Oh, the building with the giant porn ad?” Berkeley interjected. Dee raised an eyebrow and laughed dryly.
“Well, we know what famous city landmarks you look for!”
“Funny. Watch it or I’ll have you writing tickets all up and down Fifth and Main on Thanksgiving Day during the parade,” Rose snapped. Dee growled under his breath and went back searching. “You were saying, Parker?”
“Um, yeah… It was kinda weird to see somebody out that late. He ‘just happened’ to stop by the crime scene to tie his shoe or pick up evidence. Who knows? He didn’t ‘see’ the police tape. No ID on him, blonde, blue eyed, in his forties, works at some photographer’s shop for kids…”
“Which one?” Drake suddenly paled.
“… Ah, dammit.”
“Drake!!” Dee snapped. “I told you to get that address!!”
“Hey! I got his place and it checks out on the file!!”
“He’s got a file? Interesting…”
“Well, we had a file,” Dee grumbled. “Damn ancient piece of crap. You could find a thirty-year old dildo that gave you a better hard drive than this piece of shit…” Drake blinked. Berkeley massaged the bridge of his nose.
“What a lovely imagination you have, detective,” he groaned.

Did you like it?


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