Noir

by Christopher Moore

of Sal’s

Saloon, where I work, to find Sal

threat my older brother, Judges, may he rest in peace,

Not the scream of a startled little girl, mind you, but a manly scream: the scream of a fellow who has caught his enormous dong in a revolving door while charging in to save a baby that was on fire or something.

Perhaps, I thought, I should go see my business partner, Eddie Moo Shoes,

Yeah, a dame, that’s how it starts . . .