I
Iowan Corn
Guest
In the bright sunlight, of a city that had its secrets, I noticed a large gathering of people in front of me. Odd people. Some I recognized from their picture - cripes, there was one from an old Detective Comics! I turned about, to go back in through the white door and give Pete . . er, Death a piece of my mind. The afterlife? This wasn't afterlife, this was three o'clock the next day, after a night spent in the bottom of your whisky bottle!
The door wasn't there. I was out, on the street, with folks crazier than a Minnesota loon out on the lake under a full moon. I pulled my trench coat around me, and shoved my hands into the pockets - only to discover that my roscoe wasn't there. I don't know why I was surprise at the gun's absence - in my line of work, the dead normally don't take their guns with them. I should be glad I still had my hat.
There was one there, short, in a tan jacket, who was waving his hands over his head, as if that would make him seem taller. Keeping one eye on the rest of the bunch, I walked up to within arms-length behind him. "So, friend, what's the scoop? Lost your dog?"
@Ozzie Chanter
@Klutzy Ninja Kitty
The door wasn't there. I was out, on the street, with folks crazier than a Minnesota loon out on the lake under a full moon. I pulled my trench coat around me, and shoved my hands into the pockets - only to discover that my roscoe wasn't there. I don't know why I was surprise at the gun's absence - in my line of work, the dead normally don't take their guns with them. I should be glad I still had my hat.
There was one there, short, in a tan jacket, who was waving his hands over his head, as if that would make him seem taller. Keeping one eye on the rest of the bunch, I walked up to within arms-length behind him. "So, friend, what's the scoop? Lost your dog?"
@Ozzie Chanter
@Klutzy Ninja Kitty