In
the Paper
Tabloid
newspapers have a number of uses.
In
many countries they are the perfect size for lining the litter
box, a makeshift hat in a sudden downpour and for wrapping fish
and chips at the Pub. I have always found tabloid newspapers
are a good source of information, mapping the local crackpots
and low life scum, which can be optimal sources for the comings
and goings of those bent on mischief. No matter the language,
it seems that tabloid journalist cultivated the same sources,
in the same seedy places, around the globe. It really made my
job very elemental.
Once
in a raging snow storm in Siberia, I learned to drink vodka
by the thimbles full,
play a game using spoons and knives and learned to appreciate
the feeling of a mink, worn by a woman, who favored bikinis
and shearling boots.
A
stint in Thailand taught me a skill or two and I saw an eyeful
in the various establishments. Sadly the only thing I learned
to say in Thai, was a hushed and fierce, "Don't turn around,"
as I pressed my knife against the throats of countless Mafia
underlings and other deviants. It is amazing to me, how quickly
the tough ones tumble, when the tables are turned and they are
forced to confront the razor's edge of their own brutal mortality.
How quickly the rage turns to melting, mushy candy, drooling
out of their mouths, as the knife point makes a delicate prick
against the smooth sweat soaked skin, of their necks.
Throwing
up her hands, as I read from the paper, she pouts, saying "Don't
tell me
anything then. It is not as if it would be the truth anyway."
I'd give her a full recap, all the details omitted from the
discarded pages, but then she'd only harp on and on, wanting
more and more. Better to play it close, pull her close and make
the kind of music, which causes you to forget the knife at the
throat, the warm blood which never really washes from your hands,
for one more night.