LIEUTENANT DAVIDSON: We got another call about that bar down on 3rd Street.

HERO: AW, COME ON! What the conk, Lieutenant! Johnson’s out there throwing pink slips at gun priests, and I gotta play choir boy at the
local word slur den!

LIEUTENANT DAVIDSON: I don’t know what any of that means. Also, you’re a private investigator, and I’m not even sure why you hang around here all the time.

- - -


FAST FOOD EMPLOYEE: Your total is $8.41.

HERO: EIGHT SKINNIES AND METAL!? Look, man, I’m out here slinging cages on wheels around a concrete bouncy house while the D.A. sleeps on a golden potato bug next to a diamond wire spool, AND YOU’RE CHARGING ME EIGHT KNUCKLES TO FILL MY NECK UP!

FAST FOOD EMPLOYEE: Please pull forward.

- - -


LOCAL SHOP OWNER: Looks like another sunny day in California, huh?

HERO: AW, SHIT THE SHIT! Sure, maybe for ice boxed wallet massagers like you! But the long narrow bend isn’t fun for a pair of meat binoculars like me! I’m out here trap-dabblin’ hunches for divorce magnets while The D.A. sells empty gold mines to a straw man with a tall desk downtown!

LOCAL SHOP OWNER: Supposed to be ninety-three on Friday.


- - -


DENTIST: All in all, pretty good. You could be flossing those lower center ones I pointed out just a little deeper into the gums, but overall you’re good.

HERO: AW SHIT, WHAT THE CRANK! I got bottle jockeys and a ten-dollar stuntman doing the human slingshot at me while every reporter from the Los Angeles Times is trying to ink me into a gutter pension, AND NOW YOU’RE TELLING ME TO STRING MY HEAD BONES DEEPER!

DENTIST: Okay, we’ll see you in six months.