Private Dick Scene 3

This dame, a real dish with gams up to her melons, sauntered into my office. I recognized her as the canary perched on the piano every Thursday night at the Clover Club, a joint where the giggle juice was like gasoline. I know this because someone siphoned the gas out of my car while I was in the club one night, and I only made it home thanks to a gallon of their hooch. When I got home I needed a nightcap so I siphoned the gas tank. Gas tank was probably thinking, Make up your mind, ass...