During a recent televised talent show, there was a little girl with the voice of a budding Christina Aguilera. She was terminally ill, and as she sang her precious heart out, the entire audience was in tears. It was just infinitely sad. It really was.
She was an angel, but I couldn’t help wondering why her parents had bought braces for her teeth?
I mean, come on? I couldn’t have been the only one wondering why someone would spend a small fortune on orthodontia for a kid on her way out. I have to say, I saw it as being kind of cruel, like trying to fool her into believing she was going to be around to enjoy perfect teeth.
Clearly, that’s a cruel observation, but cruel observation’s my stock in trade and one of the aspects of my character that helps me do my job, because the fact my mind can readily go to dark places often gives me a leg up on cruel characters.
I’m a private eye, which I prefer rather than being called a private dick, because I like to think my being a dick is pretty much in my past.
Apparently, a couple weeks ago, someone fired some bullets at me that finally found their mark, and spending all that time in flight, they stored up a world of f***-me hurt, because that was pretty much my response when the first one hit me. As I recall, it was something like, ‘ f*** me, that hurts.’