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Purple Prose

(2005)
This is noir Science Fiction told in hard boiled detective style with plenty of wise cracks.

Its form follows the promotional hyperbole of guitarist and lyricist Maurice Tani who receives co-author credit. You can’t hear any of Maurice’s music in “Purple Prose,” but you can at Western-Independent.com.

an excerpt from this science fiction short story …

New York. Too hot in summer, too cold in winter. That’s why I moved to San Francisco long ago. The City has a lot of charm, but the most entertaining thing about it is its night life. And people are what make nightclubs bearable.

Imagine for a moment the bar in hell, because there is one you know. Who will be on the stool seated next to you?

“It was a case of natural selection and I didn’t get picked.” The guy seemed sane enough when I sat down and ordered a dark ale. But, then, everybody’s normal until you get to know them. I made the mistake of nodding in his direction when my drink arrived. He said in response, “I love chaos. We have a two party system because anarchy is too hard to organize.”

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His stream of consciousness was becoming a river.

“Fact,” he said with a half full glass of wine at his lips. “The fine for not picking up your dog’s shit in San Francisco is $27. Fact: The fine for not picking up your own shit is zero.” Other than his mouth, his most distinguishing characteristic was a red bowtie.

I decided the conversation had taken a wrong turn long ago, saluted him silently with my beer and draped a cocktail napkin over its rim. There was no more perfect time to take a leak. Turned the corner and bumped into a mountain wearing a fedora. Nobody wears hats any more, and fedoras were out of fashion long before I was even conceived.

“The Yeesev wants to see ya.” My guess was: the mountain bumped into me on purpose.

”Funny, I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”

This story is 31 pages long, available in PDF format.
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