. . .

I am but a slave of my public

Ahem.

There was this dame. Dawn was her name. Dawn. A dame. A female dame.

I was Ray. Ray Thorp. Ray the troubleshooter, Ray the dangerseeker, Ray the private dectective. I was also Ray the drunk, as Ray likes a drop o' the old Golden Sun now and again to keep him going in this dog eat dog world.

She came into my office, slinking like a mink in heat. Her fishnet stockings were sheer enough I didn't have to ask her how far her legs went up - I knew. And so did every man in the city, and they all envied me on that day, in that sweltering heat which she caused us all to feel. She came up to my desk, and in a husky voice that should've been tied to a sled, said, "I'm looking for someone mean." "Mean is a name I call myself, sugar, and I ain't the only one."

"I'm looking for a bodyguard. I pay well." I just bet she did. She had the kind of body that would pay any man alive. "From what do you need protection, honeyskin?" "I offended... a dangerous man. He lives over in D.C. I managed to get away from him, but he sent his goons after me, and I've been running ever since." "D.C.? As in Washington? That's far. A long, long way to run. No one with lips that red should have to run like that. I'll protect you." She smiled. Too many smiles like that could turn an angel to sin with no regrets.

"How many goons, and what do you know about them, kissyface?" "There's three of them. The leader is Mike "Hack'n'Slasher" Nelson. He took the semifinals in the AD&D tournament over at GenCon last year, and would've taken the finals, if it hadn't been for the water wierd hidden in the fountain at the end. Always remember to check for traps. Then there's "Open Sore" Malloy. They say his touch is death. Last, there's Eddie "The Sow". He's the twisted one. He likes torture. He always carries around a packet of long, sharp needles that he likes to jam into, um, sensitive areas and yank them all the way through. The Sow is a needle pulling threat." I clutched at my sensitive areas in sympathy for his victims.

And that's when it happened. The doorway broke open, and there stood three goons that would have had to bend down to fit through the doorway of the Taj Mahal. They came in, and without a word, started pounding me seven ways until next Tuesday. All of a sudden, they stopped. One of them stuck something in my pocket, they said a name, and when I looked up, they were gone, and the dame with them. The name they said was Solly Soul. I knew Solly. He was the one I was investigating fifteen ways from breakfast when I got yanked from the case, and the force. He had his fingers in every pie. Cherry, rhubarb, you name it, he could have it done, and most people would wish he hadn't. Based out of... our nation's great capital. I checked my pocket. It was a note. And lo! the note said "Follow Soul." Was there a traitor in his organization? I picked myself up and pushed myself out the door.

The next three weeks were another trail of tears, except that the indian nations weren't involved this time. I followed one false trail after another, trying to find where Soul was hiding. Nothing. And then - it happened. I rounded the wrong corner of the wrong alleyway and went out in a shower of sparks. I was lucky to wake up - usually your first mistake is your last in this business. I was sitting in a leather chair, staring across at... the man I'd been looking for all along. Solly himself. "Tea?" "Huh?" "Tea. You drink it. With jam and bread, if you'd care for some." I politely declined.

"What are you doing here, Mr. Thorp? What's taken you out of your home town like this? I got your badge last time, do you want me to take your life this one?" "I'm looking for Dawn." "Oh, yes. Her. What do you want with her?" "She's my client." "I'm afraid that isn't possible, Mr. Thorp. Dawn is dead. She died a month ago." "You're lying!" "I never lie, Mr. Thorp. It's a disadvantage in my position, I know, but in my position, you need a few personal disadvantages to make life interesting. I'm sure you have a few quirks of your own." "Yeah. I've got a weakness for dames. Which brings us back to Dawn." "Dawn, Dawn, Dawn. You know, I actually miss her? She caused me nothing but trouble since I met her, but she had the most incredible" we interrupt this story with the realization that I'm finished with the song before I'm halfway through, even. Hmm. Starting again would prove repetitive. Another song would just throw a sudden, reality-destroying wrench into the works. I suppose I could finish it without anything, but... eh. I'm not happy with it until now. Not nearly laughinspiring enough. You never get to hear the end of the story, then, and I mock your brief, fleeting, totally trivial and almost nonexistant pains.