🚀 go-pugleaf

and yet so far from realizing what sort of danger she would be in
if this were the type of tale Hammett would have written, me in 
overcoat with gun barrel pointed away standing in the alley waiting
for the contact who will not show as he's already been killed and
two Thugs will show instead and one'll succeed in knocking off my
Classic Fedora (tm) at which point I'll shoot the one and toss the
other off of the pier into the cold waters below where he'll escape
though I'll think he's drowned and I'll say something coldly comic
like "No one touches the hat" and that'll be my schtick and I'll
return to office and She'll be there all lipstick and sequins and
we'll do our number though I'm thinkin', "Can I trust this dame?"
and in the end, no, of course not, though this being an updated
tale of an old theme, it'll be too late for me: We'll be married.


or so she said.