The Baltimore Drive-by, Part II
Fictional characters John McFetridge and Declan Burke set out from Toronto to Baltimore for Bouchercon and decide to do some armed robberies on the way. What a hoot!
Then they meet up with Peter Rozovsky.
Her voice told a smoky tale of cigarettes and whiskey, but it lied. She never touched either.
"Think I'd be able to do this if I wasted all my time hanging in bars with you and Burke and McFetridge?"
"But — "
She whipped her fists into the speed bag so hard and fast that I felt sorry for the bag. Chin tucked, knees flexed, back straight. Elbows in, back heel lifting slightly each time she struck. Her two fists became four, then six, her breath short, spitting wheezes with each punch. I got tired watching her.
But she did hang in bars. But I didn't hang with Burke and McFetridge. I'd never heard of them till we set up the connection and I ripped them off. But —
"But why the hell all this? You write crime fiction. You — "
She stopped punching, and she smiled as she blew a wisp of platinum hair from her left eye. "Would you want to be whipped by a fat dominatrix?"
(Read the rest of "The Baltimore Drive-by" so far here or here. And remember: This is fiction. Almost none of it really happened.)
© Peter Rozovsky 2008
Then they meet up with Peter Rozovsky.
=============================
Her voice told a smoky tale of cigarettes and whiskey, but it lied. She never touched either.
"Think I'd be able to do this if I wasted all my time hanging in bars with you and Burke and McFetridge?"
"But — "
She whipped her fists into the speed bag so hard and fast that I felt sorry for the bag. Chin tucked, knees flexed, back straight. Elbows in, back heel lifting slightly each time she struck. Her two fists became four, then six, her breath short, spitting wheezes with each punch. I got tired watching her.
But she did hang in bars. But I didn't hang with Burke and McFetridge. I'd never heard of them till we set up the connection and I ripped them off. But —
"But why the hell all this? You write crime fiction. You — "
She stopped punching, and she smiled as she blew a wisp of platinum hair from her left eye. "Would you want to be whipped by a fat dominatrix?"
=============================
(Read the rest of "The Baltimore Drive-by" so far here or here. And remember: This is fiction. Almost none of it really happened.)
© Peter Rozovsky 2008
Labels: Declan Burke, John McFetridge, The Baltimore Drive-by
posted by Peter Rozovsky at 1:22 AM
18 Comments:
This is pretty badass, mate. I didn't realise you dabbled in fiction, meta or otherwise. Have you been wrting long or is this a new hobby in the making?
gb
"Would you want to be whipped by a fat dominatrix?"
Is this a trick question?
Thanks, Gerard. I'm like every lazy-ass out there who has half-assed dreams of writing fiction. I get off my duff and actually make the effort every few years.
John's meta-story kick-started my current plan, which has some structure built in. This means I could stick to it a little longer this time. He's basing his story on the trip from Toronto to Baltimore, which spurred me to do something similar. If his starting point is plot (the "journey," though I'm a bit embarrassed to use such a portentous work in public), mine is character. I'm basing characters on people I hung out with in Baltimore. I have a few more characters left to create, and I hope I'll be able to figure out what to do with them.
Also, work has gone completely pear-shaped, which seems to have released a bit of pent-up creative energy.
John, how should I know? Ask the character. She may have a name soon, which should eliminate some of the social awkwardness.
It is nice to see you using British slang.
But am sorry it is 'pear-shaped' in connection with work!
Oh this is brilliant - marvellous stuff. And has Christa seen it yet? ;-)
Donna
Thanks, Uriah. "Pear-shaped" has always beguiled me, such an innocent fruit serving as metaphor for a complete cock-up.
Donna, many thanks! But why should this "Christa" person have seen it?
Oh, dash it! All right. You have let the cat out of the (speed) bag on the problem I hinted at a few comments above. This character now has a name.
Though I was thinking of calling her Fista Krauss to avoid any suggestions that she was a character-a-clef. (Providentially, Faust is the German word for fist.)
Well, the creative energy spurt meets my approval. Sorry to hear about the job situation, though.
gb
Oh! I didn't realise it was Christa at ALL, I just wondered if she'd seen it, that's all :o)
Little Miss Innocent
Thanks. Work bites these days. The latest round of layoffs announced this week has not made its way up to my level of seniority (thank the Lord for labor unions), but it will necessitate massive reorganization of the copy desks at my newspaper. That will mean in many ways a reversion to the ways of the tiny newspapers where many American journalists started their careers. It's like life regressing slowly back to the Stone Age, and it's about as much fun.
I'm hit by a triple whammy: the recession, the decline of newspapers, and an ownership group that was ill-prepared for both. But hell, a bit of desperation can provide movtivation for the fictional Rozovsky.
She shows no signs of having seen it. Declan, on the other hand, asks in a friendly comment "Who do I sue?" though I think that may be because I threatened to expose the photo of him with a Harp in his hand.
Hmm, you're in that picture, too, I think. I hope this places you in no danger.
Photos with me in only pose danger to the people who view them. They are usually struck by intense nausea.
And, somehow, I'm sure she WILL see this blog post Peter ;o)
D
"And, somehow, I'm sure she WILL see this blog post Peter"
I hit the delete key in a panic, but that meant nothing. Donna's threat was still there. The recycle bin never forgets.
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From left: A can of Harp, the real-life model for Declan Burke, Donna Moore, Christa Faust, Sandra Ruttan
Ever have one of those days when you just can't tell the difference between a can and a bottle?
Yeah, but the distinction is quite clear when it falls from the loosened grasp.
Yeah, I guess an empty can nestles on a hotel carpet with a quiet `clink,' whereas a bottle bounces.
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