Sinister: The Case of the Run Away Thread

[idleberry]

From: "Gardiner, Stuart" <Stuart.Gardiner at xxx.uk>


"I think it's about this point where Honey would
normally start warning people (not anyone in
particular, naturally) to make sure their posts 
don't start turning into flames. I'm not quite sure
what provoked all these anti-indie-snob diatribes,
since I don't recall any such attitudes recently;
but remember, those attitudes must exist with some
people on a list this size, so let's not slag anyone
off, OK? And anyway, we've discussed this many times
before, as you could see in the archives if they
existed at the moment ;-)"

****************************************************

So there I was, sittin' in my office, readin' the
newspaper, about how the evil Dr Chu had once again
been caught doing sick experiments on young
Sinisterians. The press called him the Virgin Surgeon,
cos he'd take them fresh out of the Nursery and
perform cruel experiements making them into his own
little army of Chuians.
I spy the silloette of a figure behind the frosted
pane of glass on my door. This dame walks in. Ugly
lookin' dame, but great legs.
She came in, looking a little bit irritated. I can
tell when a dame looks irritated. She sat down in the
chair in front of my desk, with her handbag on her
lap.
"Please help me" she said. I looked over my desk at
her. Her eyes were pleading with me. Beggin' me to
help her.
"My name, is Miss Gardiner" she said. "Nobody knows
I'm here, but I had to do something."
I go to the filing cabinet and take out a glass bottle
and a glass.
"Ribena?" I offer. She declines. Aparently too early
in the day. I slouch back into my chair and flick my
hat off my forehead.
"So whats the story?" I ask. 
"Someone started a fight, in Honey's Bar" she says.
"Hey listen doll, bar fights aren't my scene. I'm a
Private invesitgator. You have things that need
investigatin in private, I sneak around and do the
work." I explain.
"No, its not that. Its... its..." and she bursts into
tears. I hate it when a dame bursts into tears. Makes
her make up run, and look uglier.
"I don't know how it began, but its getting out of
hand." She explains.
I offer her my sleeve to wipe her nose on. She looks
at me, disgusted. Hey, works for me.
"Someone, started going on about indie music. I don't
know who, or why or what.. but now.. everyone is
getting over excited about it. And you know what
Honey's Bar is like... its usually so placid and
peaceful."
"..except when ya mention George Dubya Bush. Then the
Americans get their knickers in a twist" I mumble,
looking between the blinds of the window, rubbing my
gunshot scar from the last time I had too many ribenas
and started mouthing off. All I know was it had been a
long day.
"I just want it to stop. Its a stupid argument over
nothing" says the dame. "Someone started saying how
they dislike indie strawberry, and pretentiousness and
stuff. And everyone else seemed to agree, but they
agreed in argumentative tone, as if thats all they
could agree on, but it wasn't in agreement with
anyone".
I look at the dame. I look her between the eyes. I
can't help but wonder if she's been on the ribena
already today.
"Doesn't sound like much of an argument to me" I
reply.
"I just wish I knew how it started." She said, looking
at my desk. It was covered in copies of newspaper
clippings, and a signed photo of Stuart Murdoch, that
said "Here's lookin' at you kid."
"Please, Idle Berry, will you help us?"
"I'll see what I can do." I said.  
I knew this meant only one thing. Looking through
inboxes and archives....


************************************

Now I invite someone from Sinister to take this story
and carry it on. You can change the Private
investigator to be yourself, change the time, or
whatever. Go on. Would be a giggle. 
ta.
Idles.



=====
http://clubs.yahoo.com/clubs/corduroysmoke and the world did get covered in a thick haze of corduroy smoke. And it felt good.

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