Evil Editor's Blog, page 345

Detective Story 5

The big stooge was sitting behind his desk when I walked in. There were a couple sheepskins on the wall behind him, and a painting of some dame who wouldn'ta given him the time of day if his watch were broken. "What can I do ya for, Chuck?" he said. I hate it when guys say that. And how'd he know my name? Either he called everyone Chuck, or it was a lucky guess. Or--and this was the most likely explanation--I'd forgotten to remove my name tag after the Shamus Club luncheon.

"I'm a private dick...

Detective Story 4

So we'd figured out the problem was in that star system—a star system's mighty big, you know, and here we are looking for one person. And we had to figure it out, because this spy was leaking info right and left, like a plumber's first day on the job. Codes, technical info, you name it.

Are you going someplace with this, buddy? I've got a novel to edit.

Yeah, yeah. So I was trying to figure out who'd have access to all this know,

and you went through databases and then hit up some of your usual ...

Detective Story 3

Bick stopped. There was a body on the stairs, head down, feet up. Looked uncomfortable, even for a dead man.

He pulled out his phone but stopped short before calling. Old habits. What to do? He couldn't leave a body on his stairs. The cops knew where he lived and would be by soon enough, even if they knew him well enough to know he wouldn't kill anyone in his own building. He flipped the phone open and made the call. Ruin his day either way.

He sat down, two steps above the up-thrust...

Detective Story 2

"It's Sunday, the day of rest when he should have been in church, singing the praises. Instead, he sits at his desk, counting the change from his pockets, from the sofa, from the piggy bank in pieces before him. Not even enough for a cheap bottle of vodka let alone bullets. That's when he hears the rap, rap, rap of high heels on wood in the corridor outside his door. He loads his last bullet into his revolver and watches as the shadow of a lady moves on the other side of the half-glass walls....

Detective Story 1

Jake Slant, PI moonlighted as an aspiring crime writer. Evil figured him for another wannabe as the man yammered on. Evil doubted he'd ask for a partial.

"The point," Evil said.

"So this dame has gams up to here." Jake pointed to his chest. "Hair redder than the devil's smile, but it coulda been a wig, ya know. And those eyes, they were the death of me. Green like jade… jaded, she was, jilted by her sugar daddy. Asked me to look into this thug."

Evil stroked a furry chop, shook his head clear. H...

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Face-Lift 746

Guess the Plot

Rage of a Hero

1. Stanley Diefenderfer desperately wants to bang on his chest and bellow at the sky, but can't. Being a secondary character sucks.

2. Angered at the recent success of the Philadelphia cheesesteak, a meatball hero engineers a nationwide Cheez Whiz shortage to ensure his comeback, and his rival's downfall.

3. Enraged after he accidentally slaughters the maiden he was supposed to be rescuing--the International Federation of Heroes will not stand for such behavior!--Nj...

Cartoon 607

Caption: Marissa Doyle

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New Beginning 740

My grandmother, Sophia Gorman, met me at the baggage claim in San Francisco.

She wore a 49ners' cap over her curly gray hair, and she waved at me like I was a celebrity or something. I guess I was – sort of. My mom had just married Justin McGraff, the famous fashion consultant to the stars.

Long story.

Anyway, it doesn't matter. Mom met Justin when he hired her to defend him in a lawsuit. The next thing I knew, the two of them were going out for sushi. When Mom invited him home for a sleepover, ...