The bailiffs

 “Mr Noir”, said the threatening looking man in the dark suit, “I’m afraid we have to take your office.”


Now I’m a quick thinker, its what gets me through out there, it’s a tough world, and in a tough world you’ve just gotta be tougher. The goon looked big and dangerous but he was no match for my razor sharp wit, I stared him straight in the face and said,


 “Scuse? Me speak no English”




 So the streets aren’t such a bad place, I grew up on the streets, well not so much grew up on as walked past on my way home, but I could survive the worst the streets could throw at me and come back stronger for it. The goons may have my office but they couldn’t take my pride, determination or dignity, although that had taken quite a beating, as had my much prized trilby which now resembled a rather misshaped flat cap.


 I decided to pay a little visit to an old friend of mine, a police officer who owed me a favour, and when he slammed the door in my face I decided to visit the local greasy spoon, the aptly named 'lard and ladle'.


 Daisy the waitress and I went way back, infact we had dated a few months the year previous. I could tell she was pleased to see me, within moments she had directed me to a pleasant seat beside the toilets and served me up with a delightfully economical cup of tea, complete with recycled teabag and lumpy milk. 


 “Waddya want arsehole?” She asked affectionately


 “I need cash and I need it fast” I replied.


At that moment she accidentally spilled the contents of my teacup aver my lap.


 “Don’t you dare come begging to me for money again Sam Noir, Don’t you think I have better things to do than keep the likes of you in business!” She bellowed…with a smile.


She had no sooner stomped away from the table that a willowy panicked looking woman slid onto the chair opposite me.


 “Are you Sam Noir, the detective?” she asked

The End

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