Dreadnought_The Name of the Game_The Royal_When Liza Made Extra
Catalog Guide:
Dreadnought
The high-pitched whistle would wake anyone, to be fair, especially someone who normally boils water in an electric kettle. I’d been dreaming of a factory whistle and lines of workers streaming out of a dismal Northern foundry at quitting time. Like a Lowry painting.It took me a few seconds to remember where I was. Then it came into focus: I was wrapped in a damp sleeping bag on a narrow bunk in the musty bow of the ambitiously-named Dreadnought, a 25-foot sailboat. My rucksack lay on the opposite bunk – open but unpacked.I shut my eyes again, thinking “Damn”. A hand pulled back the curtain tha...
The Name of the Game
The Name of the GamePsst! Hey. Got a story for you. A little ex-po-zay. Who am I? Just call me Flatirowww.onedoor.ccn. Can’t give my real identity. It’d be too risky. For me, for my cohorts and allies. Maybe for you, too. Anyway, here’s the scoop. There’s some shady dealing going on. I got involved by default. I’m confiding in you because: A. You look trustworthy, and 2、 You're a neutral party. See, there’s a few rival factions around here. I don’t like to say gangs, per se, but—definitely controlling elements. Besides me, there’s three other main players. (I should mention here that I have to use aliase...
The Royal
I brace myself as we pull up to the banquet hall, a white stucco monstrosity flaunting French windows echoed by excessive arches. As expected, a crowd packs the sidewalk before it: reporters readying microphones and cameramen hoisting their equipment on their shoulders; photographers, bulky cameras clicking and flashing (they can’t see us through our limousine’s tinted windows, but, apparently, they see a public demand for pictures of the vehicle); others here simply because idolize us, because of who we are rather than what we do.I’ve been dreading this for days now, fighting the te...
When Liza Made Extra
People in the town of Chackbay in Louisiana, never liked seeing me on their doorstep; in fact, I’m sure they hated it and hated me. Small towns are much different than cities, if you didn’t know, to the point where every neighbour, every household, every family knows one another. If you can imagine towns where “who’s your father?” conversations happen in every corner, you could include Chackbay. That’s what made it quaint, but everybody earns a reputation in a town like this faster than in a city. The police station had a lot of old cop families that wouldn’t touch the work I did, and they han...