Baboon Pirates

Scribbles and Scrawls from an unrepentant swashbuckling primate.

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Location: Texas, United States

Thursday, March 16, 2006

The Case Of The Origami Taco

A Little Parody For Our Mutual Amusement

Joe Hardy shuddered as the huge gulp of whiskey rasped its way down his throat. Once he drank only top shelf boutique bourbons, but the current financial state of the Hardy Brothers Detective Agency left him scraping up barely enough loose change to get a plastic jug of Old Crow.

Fucking 'CSI', he thought, taking another swallow of the rotgut liquor. Back when 'Magnum PI' and 'Simon & Simon' were on TV, we had all the business we could handle. Now, no one gave a shit about private detectives. Everyone waited for those pencil-necks from the crime lab to show up to save the day, and no one wanted a shamus hanging around. Liability, the cops said. Assholes! They were grateful as hell when he and Frank would solve the really tough cases, but now that their father Fenton Hardy had been forced out of the Chief's Office due to mandatory retirement, they were about as welcome at a crime scene as Anna Nicole Smith at the Marshall family reunion.

Joe hadn't had a client walk through the office door in weeks. Shit, at least when 'Murder She Wrote' was in reruns, he'd get the occasional wife coming into the office looking to get some photos made of her wayward spouse bangin' the nanny. The last client he'd had was some punk rocker looking for a strongarm job on his ex-roommate. Joe felt a little bad about pistol-whipping that hippie until he forked over the sackful of DVDs owned by the punker, but hey, $50 was $50. Damned if his Colt Python didn't still smell like patchouli oil, though...

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Credit for the phrase "Origami Taco" goes to Zibig's friend John. Just giving credit where it's due!