Saloon

      J#*49 nudged his partner in the ribs. “I think one of them is smiling at me. What do you think? Should we try to pick them up?”
     Z+*18 swung his huge body around to see the two women sitting at the end of the bar in the Last Chance Saloon. He wiped his pink sweating face with two paper towels, then dropped them on the bar. He swung back and glanced up at his yellow companion. “I don’t know. They’re both ugly as the females on alpha six.” He glanced at the women again and smiled. His three green teeth glowing under the fluorescence lights. “And when they are that bad looking, they’ll go with anyone.”

Monday

     “What did he look like? Was he tall, dark and handsome or short, light and ugly.”
     The bellhop grinned at Martha. “He was just a little short, skinny guy. Bald headed and maybe fifty years old. The police will show you his picture sometime today. There’re some at the front desk. I’ll try to bring one up the next time I’m on this floor.” He nodded at Madame Z and started to the door.
     “Whoa,” Martha said. “Two more questions. How was he killed and where was he found?”
     The bellhop opened the door and stepped into the hall. “The Police haven’t said exactly how he was killed, but the cook, who discovered the body, told me there was a lot of blood on the guy’s chest. He was found in the back of the cook’s pickup in our parking garage. He was laying in there nice and flat right next to the side. It’s a wonder the cook even saw him.” He waved at both women and closed the door.

Saturday

     The bellhop looked at the ceiling fan.
     "All right. Here's another five. We better get excellent service for the next five days. What is the scuttlebutt in the kitchen about this dead guy? Was he a guest here? What did he do to deserve being murdered?"
     The bellhop folded the five-dollar bill around a huge wad of money and shoved it deep into his left pocket. "He had a room on the ninth floor. I waited on him three times. I took a single bag to his room when he checked in. He called for a small pot of coffee on the following Saturday morning. The last time I saw him was when I took his bag to the lobby. I left the bag with him as he was checking out. He slipped me a twenty. I thanked him and left to pick up more bags from people checking out."

Second

"It's a long story. It might even be a ten-dollar story." He reached over and took the five-dollar bill from Martha. "A dead man was found in the hotel's parking garage a year ago. It was August of 2001 on a Monday night." He grinned at the two women. "It was just after this same writer's convention closed. The convention opened just like this one on a Thursday and closed on Monday at one o'clock. The victim has never been identified. At least that's what the police lieutenant said. So they are showing a picture of the dead guy to everyone. Most of the writers in this hotel come to this convention every year. Maybe the lieutenant thinks one of you guys killed him."

"Us! What are you taking about?" Martha walked to the window and looked at the street ten floors below. "We weren't even here last year. This is our first year. What else happened last year?"

Washington

Madame Z kicked off her shoes and sat on the edge of the bed. "I wonder what those policemen downstairs in the lobby were doing." She glanced at the bellhop. "What were they doing? It looked like they were showing a picture to people."

The bellhop put two large suitcases on the end of the other bed. He stood there and slowly extended his hand.

"Here’s two dollars for bringing the bags up," Martha said. She held her wallet open. "Of course, you’ll get more when you answer Madame Z’s questions."

The bellhop shifted his gaze and stared at the woman sitting on the bed. "Madame Z? What is she? A mind reader? A fortuneteller? Can she make things happen with her mind?"

Martha pulled out a five-dollar bill. "All of the above. Madame Z has worked with the police from Moscow to Tokyo and all places in between." She paused and frowned at the bellhop. "Now, what are the police doing downstairs in the lobby?"

Wednesday

Fran:
Did you create an account? Go to where it says create a blog and only do
the first page. If you want a blog, do all three. I think.

practice post

"Jesus, where in the hell are we? I've been in strange places before, but, this place is the pits. Dammit Jack, are you listening? Where are we? We must have fell in one of these Viet Cong tunnels that the Brass said to watch out for." He crouched down, leaning to one side, trying to see around the bend in the tunnel. "Get your rifle ready. There might be a whole platoon down here." He turned his head slowly looking down the tunnel to another bend and then back to Jack. "Jack, dammit, are you OK? Pick up your rifle. Oh, Jesus, what's wrong with you? The Cong might come around that corner any minute now, guns blazing. Come on. We got to get out of this rat hole."

first post by e-mail

He drove for another ten seconds running her answer through his mind. "How long has this spaceship been parked on the other side of the moon? Where did it come from?"
She frowned and leaned away from him. "Questions! You want to know the
answer to everything. Can't you just believe what I say? I don't know where
it's been. I don't know where it's going. The space ship is here to save
some of us. That's all I know." She paused a few seconds looking out the
windshield. "I'm getting on it whether you come or not. So make up your
mind."
"A month isn't that much time. Especially a life shaking event like moving
to another planet." He turned slightly toward her. "You don't know how dumb
it sounds when you say 'through the bowl of the big dipper.' It's really
hard to take what you say on blind faith. I need to speak with someone with
authority. Preferably someone from the space ship."

Writing Fever

Started 8/24/04