tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918800617954487311.post438539335219259499..comments2024-03-17T02:30:34.701-07:00Comments on Les Edgerton on Writing: NOIR RULESLes Edgertonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17997858985904932554noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918800617954487311.post-8548619134096449702017-04-04T13:16:35.267-07:002017-04-04T13:16:35.267-07:00Rick, you're off your meds, right? Cool! I lik...Rick, you're off your meds, right? Cool! I like it when you defy your handlers!Les Edgertonhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17997858985904932554noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5918800617954487311.post-75295857618849425782017-04-03T10:00:43.454-07:002017-04-03T10:00:43.454-07:00You tells them.
He left the morning after he'...You tells them.<br /><br />He left the morning after he'd shiv'd the child molester and planted the evidence on the little boy loving cop killing cop who cried to everyone who'd listen that he'd been framed like the Mona Lisa. He spit on the first patch of free grass. How he hated clichés. No one cheered his release, and he walked six miles to town as the clouds eventually covered the sun. The freckled-face young man made a point of showing the girl behind the cash register his gun. She seemed impressed. The young man's gun became his in seconds. The boy died. The girl fainted into the French fry maker, and then died. By time he killed the only other joker in the McDonald's, he was mad. He should have ordered lunch first. The other employees scrambled. He picked up the twenty-piece box of chicken nuggets, shot Ronald, and walked across a field of tall corn toward a house so far off in the distance it seemed as big as a toy in a happy meal. He could use a happy meal now. He wasn't going back inside.Rick Bylinahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10493557860835710721noreply@blogger.com