Missives

Name:
Location: Rochester, Minnesota, United States

Saturday, February 25, 2006

Baby It's Cold Outside

The cold sucks.

Colds suck even more.

I'm going to bed and I didn't even bump my head, but I'll be damned if I'm getting up in the morning.

Friday, February 24, 2006

Breaking Code Is Hard To Do

20 8 25 4 1

15 5 11 8

5 12 17 2 10 25 4 21 -

15 5 11

18 8 5 1 21

10 24 21

19 5 20 21!

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

Yahoo! Avatars

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

Secret Agent Man

The fog didn't creep in on little cat's paws. It rushed up and forcefully assaulted you, enveloping you in a cold and clammy funk that refused to let go no matter how tightly you wrapped yourself against it. Just like love.

Stupid love! If it weren't for old love - the kind not quite forgotten and not quite unrequited - I wouldn't be hanging out on the treacherous docks of the city; slimy with fog and stinking of fish heads.

He had come to me in a late night quandry. His wife, Greek-American shipping heiress Roberta Illkikeras, was missing and he was primo suspecto. He wanted me to help prove his innocence. Men are always wanting women to bail them out. Nick Manibouton was no exception.

I gave a little shiver. I didn't know if it was the atmosphere or the thought of handsome, witty, wealthy Nicky .

I heard the footsteps before I saw The Chinaman. He wasn't Chinese. Didn't even like duck or bok choy. He was a highly successful opium den operator who thought he should look the part, right down to the Fu Man Chu and dragon nails. Man was he strange. But lots of digging and a few well-placed twenty-spots led me straight to him and I had the feeling he had just the information I needed to help Nicky.

Nicky and those startlingly blue eyes and husky "Come to Poppa" voice.

Damn! The Chinaman spotted me and was turning tail fast! I was getting too soft, thinking about someone who wasn't mine to think about, and paid the price.

I rushed after him, damn the secrecy. Past the old fashioned wooden fish crates, across from the fish factory, by the streetlamp - where I lost him.

I cursed under my breath and looked around. What was that? A scrap of paper caught on the lamp base inserted itself into my line of vision. Upon closer inspection, I could see it was a piece of heavy cardstock. On one side it read: "inds f r" and on the other side someone had hastily scrawled in indelible ink: "E = 6".

Hmmm....


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