SDWC Noir.
The tale of the pointing finger
Read the SDDP Blue note lately? Apparently a crime is possibly going to be committed. A harsh crime that tells a story of revenge and betrayal . A story we'll term "The Tale of the Pointing Finger."
1.
They call me the professor, but anyone who knows me calls me PP. That's just P for short.
I'm an investigative blogger covering the state capitol. It's a place filled with liars and scoundrels, and bums down on their luck who'd sell their soul for a bottle of bathtub gin. And then there are the legislators.
Why was I haunting the halls? I was there to do a little digging into a report about a poking finger. I was reading the tip sheets recently when this little ditty came over the wire:
He wasn't talking. He wasn't telling any tales over who did the poking. But as an ace investigative blogger, I knew I had to get to the bottom of it. The truth had to come out for my readers. And I knew where to start.
Who could have poked Moore? The list was pretty short, and I knew where to look. So I started my list of potential suspects:
And it was time for the interrogation to begin.
2.
Thumbkin was an enigma to me. He didn't have the juice to go poking politicians. One second he was telling little kids to get outta here, and the next he was trying to hitch a ride out of town.
Our conversation went a little like this:
And that was an interview I was dreading. I took off to go find the tall man.
3.
The Tall Man. Here he was. Out of the whole group he was the least quotable. At least quotes that could appear in print. All I got out of my mouth was how are you today sir, and He had two words for me, and I can tell you, they weren't "very well."
It was entirely possible he was the culprit. I might have to get back to him if my other leads fall through. That left me searching for Ring Man and Pinkie.
Where is Ring Man? Where is Pinkie?
4.
There they are. Ring Man and Pinkie.
I was driving out of the capitol parking lot when I saw them. A couple of preening fools decked out in jewelry. I grilled them on the poking incident, and they claimed to be trying on rings at the time.
But they were pretty sure who Moore was talking about. They'd overheard Moore talking about getting rid of him.
Who was him? That person was pointer. The finger I suspected all along. Now I just had to find him. Where is pointer?
Epilog.
Just after asking where is pointer, he jumped out and said here he is. I asked how he was like the others, and he did indicate he was very well. But it was a lie.
He wasn't very well, thank you. He was in danger, and I had to do something. It was time to get him out of town.
After I got his story, I turned him over to the police to get him in protective custody. With a possible hit out on him, pointer needed to get out of town fast.
And at least for now, there ends...
(And for those of you who don't get the joke, you can click here. It comes from too many nights of children's nursery rhymes and Barney the Dinosaur. And too much pleasure frombad puns)
1.They call me the professor, but anyone who knows me calls me PP. That's just P for short.
I'm an investigative blogger covering the state capitol. It's a place filled with liars and scoundrels, and bums down on their luck who'd sell their soul for a bottle of bathtub gin. And then there are the legislators.
Why was I haunting the halls? I was there to do a little digging into a report about a poking finger. I was reading the tip sheets recently when this little ditty came over the wire:
"Their idea of cooperation is to come upstairs, on the third floor, put their finger in your chest and say your bill needs to be done. No tact. No charisma. Probably some of the rudest people I've seen. The governor needs to look at his staff, get rid of some of the people that do not have any charisma or tact..."The Senate Minority Leader was the victim of an assaulting poke. And he was quoted as saying that someone needed to "get rid of some people." But who was he planning the hit on?
He wasn't talking. He wasn't telling any tales over who did the poking. But as an ace investigative blogger, I knew I had to get to the bottom of it. The truth had to come out for my readers. And I knew where to start.
Who could have poked Moore? The list was pretty short, and I knew where to look. So I started my list of potential suspects:
ThumbkinNow, if I could figure out where they were. Where is Thumbkin? Where IS Thumbkin?
Pointer
Tall Man
Ring Man
Pinkie
And it was time for the interrogation to begin.
2.
Thumbkin was an enigma to me. He didn't have the juice to go poking politicians. One second he was telling little kids to get outta here, and the next he was trying to hitch a ride out of town.
Our conversation went a little like this:
"Here I am, Here I am.."He did give me one piece of information I might use. He said "I think it’s the guy the second door down from me."
"How are you today sir?"
"Very well, I thank you."
And the next thing you knew, he was trying to run away.
And that was an interview I was dreading. I took off to go find the tall man.
3.
The Tall Man. Here he was. Out of the whole group he was the least quotable. At least quotes that could appear in print. All I got out of my mouth was how are you today sir, and He had two words for me, and I can tell you, they weren't "very well."
It was entirely possible he was the culprit. I might have to get back to him if my other leads fall through. That left me searching for Ring Man and Pinkie.
Where is Ring Man? Where is Pinkie?
4.
There they are. Ring Man and Pinkie.
I was driving out of the capitol parking lot when I saw them. A couple of preening fools decked out in jewelry. I grilled them on the poking incident, and they claimed to be trying on rings at the time.
But they were pretty sure who Moore was talking about. They'd overheard Moore talking about getting rid of him.
Who was him? That person was pointer. The finger I suspected all along. Now I just had to find him. Where is pointer?
Epilog.
Just after asking where is pointer, he jumped out and said here he is. I asked how he was like the others, and he did indicate he was very well. But it was a lie.
He wasn't very well, thank you. He was in danger, and I had to do something. It was time to get him out of town.
After I got his story, I turned him over to the police to get him in protective custody. With a possible hit out on him, pointer needed to get out of town fast.
And at least for now, there ends...
(And for those of you who don't get the joke, you can click here. It comes from too many nights of children's nursery rhymes and Barney the Dinosaur. And too much pleasure frombad puns)
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