Soooo, while I was waiting for a slew of printing to complete today, I simply couldn't resist.....
Sammy sauntered into the bar, the very essence of squirrel insouciance. Hopping onto a stool, he ordered a double weaselpiss on the rocks and from beneath the brim of his battered fedora, scanned the clientele.
He almost missed her at first. She was tucked into a booth with her back to him. But one glance at those endless legs told him all he needed to know.
She was sitting opposite Frankie Fox. A good-for-nothing low life renard with all the charm and charisma of two week old bobcat roadkill.
He didn’t smell any better either.
Even from across the bar, Sammy’s nose wrinkled at the gamey tang emanating from her mangy companion.
She slid something across the table. Her faux diamante bracelet glittered in the harsh lights and he caught a brief glimpse of her vulpine profile.
She was a head-turner all right. With curves in all the right places.
And places in all the right places.
He had to stop thinking like this. In Sammy’s book, broads were always trouble.
And the wife of Cornelius Capybara was more trouble than most.
Which is why Cornelius had hired him to dish the dirt on his paramour.
Sammy knocked back his weaselpiss and declined the barman’s offer of another. Things were going to get bitey and he needed to keep a clear head.
He jumped off his stool and scampered over to their booth, pausing only to whisk his tail as if winding up his resolve.
“Well….. helllllllo Sammy” she purred. “Long time no see.”
Frankie’s eyes narrowed and Sammy was momentarily transfixed by his lopsided snarl, revealing freakishly pointed teeth.
Closely followed by a gust of halitosis that gave swamp gas a bad name.
“Hey Frankie….. still a stranger to personal hygiene then?”
She sniggered, then fell silent.
They all looked at each other.
Things were about to get interesting……