Tag Archives: humor

Noir Detective Story opening…Gun at the Head


DetectiveThere is a gun pointed at me by a woman in shadow right this very moment. Meager light from the street lamps fights it way through the blinds of my dark office as I sit behind my desk shrouded in nothingness.

Caught unaware I was, found with my left cheek upon my desk, asleep in a pool of my own drool alongside a bottle of rum sitting on its side with nary a drop to its name.

From my one eye that is allowed to see, light catches the barrel of the pistol firmly pressed, held by a well manicured stark white delicate hand. The pressure of the metal tube tight against my temple, which I’m sure, is creating a nice circular indentation upon my skin at this very moment.

I hear the rain outside pouring buckets of cats and dogs. I hear the cars cutting through the river that is the road as I sit immobile just two floors above this moving passive world.

I could die here tonight, brains sprayed all across my desk. The cops would have a hell of a time playing connect the dots in trying to figure out my face after the trigger was pulled. No opening of the casket for the wife and kids, or friends. If I had any of those.

She was itching to kill me. This was a woman who meant business.

I could tell she knew her business, knew her business well. She wasn’t breathing heavy, in fact she wasn’t breathing at all!

Well that’s peculiar.

A small, dithering of low laughter filled the darkened room around me. Who was with her? My one eyeball twirled to see.

“Don’t worry about them, they are the last thing you will need to worry about. Indeed the last.” Her voice crackled like burnt paper to my ear. I knew she was smiling eventhough I couldn’t see her.

“What do you want?” I asked, calmer than I felt. Perhaps I was already resigned to my fate.

“Your fate is in my hands is it? That has always been your mistake almost from the moment you drew air into this world. You are like so many I meet in this world.”

She pressed the gun harder against my skull. The metal bit deeper. I could feel the blood starting to flow down over my cheek near my eye.

“For fuck sakes! Stop! What do you mean!?”

“Think, you fucking moron. Why am I here. Right now. In this room. With you. Holding a gun to your head? Think hard before you speak another word.”

Think, think, think. I know if I said the right wrong thing she would pull the trigger.

“You got that right, stop telling yourself to think and actually do it.” Crinkle, crinkle went her papery voice.

She can hear what I’m thinking?

“Yes, for fuck sakes you are just now picking up on that, god I hate my job. Think.” I saw her grip tighten on the trigger.

So I thought. Quietly to myself. I thought. Then I knew.

“I know why you are here. I asked you to come. You are Death aren’t you? Actual Death.” I cringed in my own pool of drool just asking her, it? or what the fuck ever the correct pronoun was appropriate.

Suddenly the gun was removed from my head.

“Congratulations, now sit up, not much time left. Listen carefully. First, you are abysmal at killing yourself. I have presided over your almost corpse six times prior, waiting and waiting and you always seem to pull through. Now this seventh time you knock yet again on Death’s door. Do you know how rude it is to knock on someone’s door and then run away…..well do you!!” She yelled like a Banshee then, causing my overturned bottle of rum to shatter into a thousand pieces.

“Well?” she asked almost too quietly. I heard her tapping a foot on my hard wood floors.

“Oh, um, I’m sorry. I thought that was a rhetorical question….of course it’s rude. I didn’t know I was ah uh knocking in my defense. I never thought death was literal in the sense that you are… I uh mean standing in front of me like your are in the real sense of things….” my words dithered slowly to a mumble as she slowly leaned forward into the dim light over my desk.

I was struck by how beautiful Death was immediately as her/it face came into view.

“Why thank you, and I should be and I’m not an IT, she is the proper pronoun, and I need you to hire you for job” she said, replying immediately to my thoughts.

” A job, me,  investigating for you, Death? What could I ever possibly help you with?

“My death, my very own death.  You see, someone in precisely seven  days, sixteen hours, three minutes and  two seconds is going to kill me.  I need you to find the killer before he, or she, or them, or it kills me.”

by Philip Wardlow  Jan 16th, 2023

Applying for the Job of Death


 

 

To Whom it may Concern,

I saw your ad in the Daily Death Bugle for an opening for the Death position that had recently become available in your department.

I can’t tell you how delighted I was to see the position finally open up after so many eons of waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting…sorry (I have waited quite a while)

Please see attached resume regarding my education and experience on all things related to death and in my earlier years with dismemberment only as I was still learning what it truly meant to properly and with great honor take someone’s soul.

My brief stint of education  at DIT (The Death Institute of Technology) wetted my appetite for all things Death, so I then chose to enroll with the esteemed Reaper University to properly round out my skills and attain, as you see, my Masters ,Majoring in Reaping with a Minor in Pottery. I have trapped many a soul in my stylish handmade cookie jars mind you, and they sell really well at the Arts and Craft Festival every year.

I believe my collaboration and internship work with various mortuaries, churches, casinos, and funny enough, oriental massage parlors gave me a unique perspective that Death is always lurking around the corner. I am ready, willing and able to creep around any corner put in front of me with vigor and steadfastness to this ancient glorious trade to see that the job gets done.

 Please consider me for  this Reaper position as I believe I am the only entity for the job with the right  mix and balance of perversion, passion and education to get the job done, and done right the first time,  as you can only kill a person once they say.

Sincerely,

Philip “The Grim”  Wardlow

666 Scythe Lane
Purgatory, MI
http://www.reaperofsouls.com
616-666-6666

 

 

Mini-Poetry of Many Flavors


 

 

dress

Mischievous

Her dress unraveled

Falling slowly, suddenly,

clothed now only  in a grin

to mirror my own.

****************

tenor

Perspective

Circling,  ever circling

around and around

eyes shaded to what is, what was,

what might be.  When all

we needed do was to stop and leave

this fun house to truly see , and never

buy a ticket again.

**************

cookiecat

Cookie Cat

Oh fat cat, where

did that last cookie go?

Do you suppose

it went down

that big  mouse trap of a mouth?

I’m thinking so.

************

shadowplay

Shadow Play

Kill your shadow

before it kills you.

Your shadow doesn’t lead.

You lead you.

My Killer Girlfriend


 

Huntress

 

I knew the moment I spied you

that the devil lived behind those blues.

How long ago did you trap him, for

I see he’s itching to play.

It’s clear from our encounter,

your a girl who  can handle her boomstick

when it goes off with a kick.

Your grip on the gun is tight but loose as

silver bullets fill it, along with a gleam.

You smile that smile that I could die for as the

full moon rises, and

the day descends to glorious night.

My hand takes yours as we roam

the dank castle far beneath in the catacombs.

I’ll take the hammer,  you take the stake

as we take out a vampire or two on our first date.

When other monster’s wish to interlude upon

our first kiss your casual air and

sadistic flair with an axe

cannot be denied as the crimson droplets fly

in the midnight air….Oh, I think I’m in love!

Let’s not dawdle, let’s not hesitate in our fate.

For we have a rendezvous, me and you, and it involves

Frankenstein and the Wolfman’s  heads

on a plate.

 

by Philip Wardlow

I’m a Rat! Poem


pizza

I don’t feel bad for stealing that piece of  pizza pie.

Look me in my eye!

I’m a rat can’t you see,

a rat through and through.

You knew from my whip like tail,

to my twitchy whisker face, and my little ears

which danced to and fro

that I was up to no good

as I ambled up on ya, you  knew, oh you knew

 that pie was already

gonna be took!

Nom…nom…nom.

Hmm…there’s more.

Well why the hell not?

I’m a rat!

by Philip Wardlow 2016