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And that was the end of that. I turned my back on my knight on shining armor and his beautiful princess. No fairy tale ending for me. Instead, I went for a different set of genre cliches entirely. I cut my hair short, got a trenchcoat, and became a detective. A private eye, a shamus, a gumshoe--but hopefully not a dick. I work in the city. What city? I don't know, but it's always raining and it's filmed in Vancouver.
Oh, and I'm the narrator now. If you don't like that, tough. One day, I'm sitting behind my desk and reading the newspaper, when my secretary rings me up and tells me someone's in. She's the same cute secretary who used to work for Bimbo and Bobo. [28] She's really sweet and packs a mean karate chop, and if I dated her it'd probably be a lot less drama then some of the dames I go for, but I don't, because that's what private eyes do. The lady who walks into my office is a tall blonde wearing a black velvet suit and a mourning veil. She um... she has legs, and they're really nice. I'm not very good at this. "I need your help," she says. "Someone's been murdered!" Another Tuesday, then. "Who is it?" "It's... it's you." "Wha? I'm right here, lady." "No, I mean it's 'you,' the character!" Can't say I'm surprised at this at all. You were a bastard and a half. Everyone hated you. Always getting into threads that weren't yours. Still, I can't believe you're actually dead. So do I take the case?
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3/25/2016 2:56:09 AM
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