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DU Story Time (do your bit to continue, please): NSMA Vanishes

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ForrestGump Donating Member (1000+ posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore Sun Oct-12-03 10:04 PM
Original message
DU Story Time (do your bit to continue, please): NSMA Vanishes
She had the sort of pins that other dames would kill for. Gams that went all the way up to her acetabula. Her voice was the kind that could raise the dead and knock down the vital. Her eyes as inviting as a warm bath on a cold day, as sensual as an armful of Slinkys, and as moist as a St Bernard's chin hair. Toes you could suck on all day, trying to fit all ten into your mouth at the same time as your tongue swirls around and over her perfectly finished little red toenailes, her...well...uh...*ahem*...never mind about that...

But I knew she really had me hooked when she fixed me with her twin 38s and looked into my eyes. Missing person, she said. A hot little number named Annie Moore. Her friend. She'd last seen her five days before, when Annie had told her that she was going to do something shocking...something big. This classy broad before me had replied with a flippant "Nothing shocks me, Annie Moore" and that was it. The lady vanished...Annie Moore was seen no more.

After she left my dingy office, taking her curvy wiggle with her, I thought about this last encounter, wishing I knew Moore, as the veiled woman's perfume hung in the air like the fragrance of a ranchero burrito from Roberto's. I stood up and tucked my piece into my waistband. Snub-nosed but with a six-inch barrel. Speedloader. Well worn from years of use. And then, hesitating, I decided to take my revolver, too. It could be that kind of day.

My name's Dem. Dem O'Crat. Private Instigator. LA's my town. I took the case.



(hey, so I've never read Raymond Chandler)


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peekaloo Donating Member (1000+ posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore Sun Oct-12-03 10:16 PM
Response to Original message
1. musical interlude
courtesy of r.e.m.

It's not that she walked away,
Her world got smaller
All the usual places,
The same destinations,
Only something's changed
It's not that she wasn't rewarded
With pomegranate afternoons
And mingus, chet baker and chess
It's not the stampeding fortune,
Of prim affectations
She's off on her own
But she knows

Now is greater than
The whole of the past
Is greater, and
Now she knows

She just wants to be somewhere
She just wants to be
She just wants to be somewhere
She just wants to be

It's not that the transparency
Of her earlier incarnations
Now looked back on,
Weren't rich
And loaded with
Beautiful vulnerability

And now she knows

Now is greater
And she knows that

She just wants to be somewhere
She just wants to be
She just wants to be somewhere
She just wants to be

Now is greater, now is greater
And she knows that

She just wants to be somewhere
She just wants to be
She just wants to be somewhere
She just wants to be

It's not like if angels
Could truly look down
Stir up the trappings
And light on the ground
Remind us of what,
When, why or who
That how's up to us,
Me and you
And now is greater than
The whole of the past

Is greater, and
Now she knows that
Now she knows





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ForrestGump Donating Member (1000+ posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore Sun Oct-12-03 10:33 PM
Response to Reply #1
4. All right...thanks
Now we've got our main theme music set....
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Armstead Donating Member (1000+ posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore Sun Oct-12-03 10:28 PM
Response to Original message
2. You do a pretty good imitation of Chandler
Especially for someone who's never read him....Chandler is so good at those metaphors I won't even try to imitate him...Oh heck. Here...


Little did I know that this dame who walked into my office was a fighter who could make me seem like a kindergarden teacher. She'd just taken on the Arnie mob, and had found that Arnie was just the tip of a very big iceburg. An iceburg so immense it threatened to freeze the whole damn ocean...







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ForrestGump Donating Member (1000+ posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore Sun Oct-12-03 10:35 PM
Response to Reply #2
5. Cool!
Yeah, I haven't even seen Chandler on Friends, dude....but you do a great facsimile. :-)
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Cheswick2.0 Donating Member (1000+ posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore Sun Oct-12-03 10:33 PM
Response to Original message
3. Lets start at the beginning
Edited on Sun Oct-12-03 10:56 PM by Cheswick
As they say, a very good place to start. She was a dame who loved cars, loved em like a child loves her first toy. She loved cars like they were shiny plastic and colorful, like they were the wheels and excercise all rolled up in one perfect auto.

I kinda got the idea she wanted one, in fact she wanted one like a kids wants a present on the last day of Chanukah.

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ForrestGump Donating Member (1000+ posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore Sun Oct-12-03 10:36 PM
Response to Reply #3
7. :-D


Picture story! Picture story!


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Maddy McCall Donating Member (1000+ posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore Sun Oct-12-03 10:43 PM
Response to Reply #3
8. As she reached her teen years...
Edited on Sun Oct-12-03 10:44 PM by jchild
She became a mouthy juvey. Loved to shoot her mouth off and challenge authority at every opportunity. Boys in the neighborhood were thoroughly intimidated by her sharp tongue and parents cringed at her rebellious nature.

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HEyHEY Donating Member (1000+ posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore Sun Oct-12-03 10:35 PM
Response to Original message
6. I wasn't sure of much but I knew one thing
I needed a drink, and some amswers...one of them I knew where to find
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WannaJumpMyScooter Donating Member (1000+ posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore Sun Oct-12-03 11:09 PM
Response to Reply #6
9. The bar was just that. A dingy bar, the kind of place that
served shots and beers to bitter old men who stared at the gas bubbles in the beer like a blind bookie at a horse race. The bartender was not much more cheerful. There was a cigarette permanently angled out of the left side of his mouth. His skin was greasy and grey, but his hair was slicked back, black and full. I noticed right away the telltale bulge under his left armpit. Either he was packin' heat, or that was where they shot him full of cancer drugs every other day.
"What'll it be, mac?" he told me more than asked.
"One of those," I said, and keep the mohaska more under wraps, would'ja?
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