From somewhere in the middle of the book …

Managed 250 words today to add to a chapter of Bob, P.I.  It’s just banter, but it is typical of the characters.  They are talking about a crime family that they sort of cross paths with.

“They are a long established family in Chicago.  Considered minor players in the whole organized crime scene.”  Nick explained.

“They’re like a Boutique crime family.”  Bob remarked.

Nick looked at him and hesitated.  “Yeah, sure.  They carved out a niche and basically stayed there.  They perform some services for other, more powerful families.”

“They’re like the Tonto of crime families.”  Bob balanced a cig in his mouth.

“OK.” Nick was getting annoyed.  “They keep a low profile and stay out of skirmishes with the other families.  They never seem to overplay their hand and get the authorities too concerned about them.”

“So, they’re like the choirboys of the crime families.”  Bob said.

“Yeah, whatever.  They’re far from choirboys.”  Nick growled.  “Are you going to keep up the running dumb commentary?”

“I got my rights, man.  Just doin’ my thing, baby.  What else about them?”

“They’ve been in everything, drugs, stolen goods, women, you name it.”  Nick continued.

“So, they’re the Dabney Coleman of crime families.”  Rick chimed in.

Nick turned to him. “What does that even mean?”

“Dabney Coleman, you see him in all kinds of TV and movies.  He’s been in everything.”  Rick smiled.

“He was in that movie 9 to 5 with Dolly.”  Bob added.

“Dolly, yeah buddy.”  Rick smiled.

“So, you too with the lousy comments?”  Nick asked Rick.  “Like the genius over here isn’t enough?”

Rick shrugged.

“Hang loose, baby!”  Bob cautioned.

“Sorry, man” Nick said  “It’s not my bag.”

“That’s the spirit.”  Bob pointed at him and lit his cig.

First Snow

                   zzzppalalddd

Falling, it drifts.  

       In Heaven handcrafted.

A gentle blessing.

      Covering, cloaking.

All is made new and fresh.

Gold of dawn shows the glorious, white transformation.

      Quiet, reassuring.

Stark purity clings.

      It carpets the way.

Lays full and unmarked in unchanging love.

      Beneath is new life. 

      Waiting.

 

                                                                             D. Baker

                                                                             14 December 2003