Today's activity is the most difficult one to date: we will craft another "story in the round" with an extra rule: you will not use any word containing a certain proscribed letter of the alphabet. As per Tyson's request, I will set two levels of difficulty, and we shall see on whose shoulders the laurels come to rest.
Our story recalls the classic 40s and 50s Film Noir style, starring a detective and a dame in distress. Think "Guy Noir" on Prairie Home Companion or that one episode of X-Files.
Our hero, Lazlo Kovacs, sits at his desk in a murky office, lit dimly by slits of light from the streetlamps, cutting the smoke-filled room. What happens next is your call. Remaining true to the genre, a blonde in a gabardine coat arrives, shows some thigh, and lights a cigarette, but that, readers, I leave in your capable hands.
Here are your letters:
E (if you're feeling up to it)
M (if you need training wheels first)
16 comments:
It was a Friday night, and Lazlo Kovacks sits in his working room, his oxfords propping upon his writing thing. From in it, Lazlo took a glass of no-color liquid and drank. Strong gin burns his looking organs.
Lazlo put his body back upon his chair, its bottom squalling as though it had a wish for oil.
Lacing his digits through his moppish hair, Lazlo swung his dogs onto what was in front of him, and crossing his tarsals, put forth a yawn.
Tuning out, Lazlo sat satisfyingly imagining a girl of not long ago's bosoms. It soon took him that mayhap a singular brush with a lady might not add up to doing it in futurity. Such thought had took him at this instant owing to his calling up fanciful visuals of a girl Lazlo was dating from scratch as of a day past.
"Damn," thought Lazlo, "It looks as though I ought not count my baby cocks forward of that instant upon which said cocks burst forth into living."
What could prompt such pondrous thinking in Lazlo's gin-cloudy brain?
A doll, unsurprisingly. Always a doll... although Lazlo's guts said this doll was toxic, and his guts was always right.
"Babs" was this girl's alias, and Babs had sought him out to do a bit of inquiry for a pal who Babs said was "in 'da joint."
Babs' pal, Maury, had sang as a canary, and mob gangstas in da joint sought payback. Paying off said gangstas was Maury's only shot at survival, and Maury had a smoking hot commodity to bargain with -- a Spanish rock known as "La Azul Vaca".
With much liquid spilling from Babs' visual orbs, Babs' said to Lazlo with conviction, "Assist Maury, Mr. Kovacks! Find La Azul Vaca!"
Lazlo could not turn down a broad in hardship. This was his only soft spot. Lazo thought to his own liking. Wow. And what a pinup this gal was. A hat sitting atop that auburn hair and cast at a slight tilt, dipping across a brow. You know what kind I talk about... that can cast a shadow an old dick would run in front of a bus just for a shot at catchin' a look at.
I put a hanky to that soft skin, "Poor thing. Sit down and cry it all out. Catch your wind, and how 'bout you and I discuss...
(no e's and no m's)
Erin... another wonderful success. Good fun!
You guys make me sick. Just sick.
...this big aqua rock of yours."
Lazlo took his glass of scotch in his hand and drank hard,thoughts of diamonds in his mind tangling
with thoughts of this broad.
Would this doll shoot straight with him? Lazlo wasn't about to count any baby cocks forward of that instant upon which said cocks burst forth into living now.
Grabbing that hanky from his hand, Babs pours that tight body onto a cozy sofa and says, "Look. 'Dis aint no jaunt around 'da block, buddy. Maury can pay off da mob guys, but 'da rock's gotta stay hid 'til Maury says. Dat's how you play into it. You gotta throw 'da mob guys a crimson hair-ring... Dat'll buy Maury a coupla days to do what Maury's gotta do."
"Hair-ring?" said Lazlo. "What's a hair-ring?"
"Don't play dumb wit' a lady, bozo!" Babs spat argrily. "You know a crimson hair-ring is a bogus trail. Now back to my point."
About to say witty words at Babs's cost, Lazlo drops it. A girl that dumb's not going to know a fish from fuck-all.
"How about my cut?" says Lazlo.
You's is gonna haf' to trust us. It's all in da works."
Trust a floozy along with a jailbird, thought Lazlo? Hardly. But Lazlo was ok playing along, so long as dough was in it for him.
"Ok. I'm your man," Lazlo said, and sat forward in his chair. "How about a drink?"
Gin, thought Lazlo, was a passport into this broad's pants, and Lazlo was up for a trip.
Gin? Scotch? Both? Babs didn't mind which poison.
"Good. Gin it is", Lazlo thought, "Scotch costs too damn much, hot bimbo or no."
Downing the gin, Babs drank as a man -- hard and fast.
"Again", Babs said, glass thrust at him.
"Mmmm, gladly, doll," was Lazlo's quip back, "Coming right up". Until soon it was...
Gin, and hands. Gin, and mouths. Gin, and things you don't say around your mama.
For pussy, Lazlo had lost all his smarts. Babs, that crafty broad, had him thoroughly in hand.
Babs had, in point of fact, Lazlo firmly in hand. Babs began to rub this hand up and down on Lazlo's throbbing id.
"Oooohhhh," said that broad in a lusty murmur. "Such a big man should find my rock without any complication, by my troth."
"GAK!"
Choking, Gin burning in his nostrils, Lazlo said, "What?! What did you say?!"
"Huh? Did I say a wrong thing?"
Babs's foraging hands halt. Bab's glassy orbs bob back and forth in gin-hazy confusion.
"Damn straight, you did," says Lazlo. "What,you think Lazlo's a sap? A sap who'll find your rock for you?!"
Quickly standing up, Lazlo dumps Babs on that fantastic round ass.
"Whadda ya talking about baby?" says Babs, not catching on.
Bab's mislaid words still don't show up in Babs's brain.
"You had a boo-boo in your talking, kid. Now I know your rock's missing!"
"AAwwww, shucks! I always blow it! Always!"
Crying now, Babs sits on Lazlo's floor. Drops of salty fluid roll down and drip off of Babs's schnoz.
"Now knock it off," says Lazlo, scooping Babs up roughly. "You go on out of my room, and don't you try coming back!"
Pulling Babs to an unknown door, Lazlo puts Babs out with a big "SLAM!"
Chuckling, Lazlo sat back down in his chair.
"That'll show that broad," Lazlo said to nobody in particular. That door that Babs was just put out of was a door that had a bad thing backing it. Lazlo almost was sorry for Babs, but not much.
Why so quiet in here? Whats the matter? Wanna buy a vowel? Like maybe an "e"?
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