Monday, September 14, 2015

Preacher Noir

"Hmmm. Why can't there be preacher-noir?" he asked.

So thinking there might be a market for the local country preacher portrayed in the same vein as a hard-bitten detective ala Dashiell Hammett or Raymond Chandler, I decided to give it a go.
Every town has its secrets and only the local preacher knows them all. My name is Rev. Boxer. I wear a clerical collar.
It was a day as gray as the hair on a church granny, rain staining the sidewalks like Sunday School kids unleashed on the nursery walls with those slate gray Crayolas. She came into the office, and she was no granny. Her eyes were red from crying. "Pastor!" she said, "I don't like the color of the church carpets!"
They don't pay me enough for this job. I keep a bottle hidden in my desk. A bottle of Malox.

Nah. On second thought, I'll stick to writing fantasy. ;-)

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