NOTE: You must read this in the gruff voice of a 1950's PI…
Mahoney and Ellis sifted through the mountains of slush. Ream upon ream of paper piled up in their wake like the chum-laden foam behind a shark fishing boat. Pages bloodied from paper cuts. The scent of a thousand perfumes permeated the air, wafting up from the most overtly hopeful of the romance manuscripts. It was almost enough to make a tough guy cry. Almost.
"Why are you crying, you pussy?" Mahoney asked Ellis.
"It's this cookbook ...
Published on October 11, 2009 07:08