There are ten paragraphs that make up the story so I plan to have an image for each paragraph. At the moment I am just storyboarding my images and making sure that I have a variety of shots.
I'm also considering whether to have the final images in black and white?
The city’s awfully dead tonight, considering it’s almost midnight in the heart of San Francisco. I’ve been waiting outside the latest client’s joint, for about two hours now and the sleaze still hasn’t come out. But he will, the dame said he would.
Pretty little thing she was, the client I mean. She came in to my office looking all blonde and sassy. Thinks her man doing the dirty, so she’s hired me to suss him out. I’ve been following the guy for about a week now and so far the boob is clean. Starts work at the office at 9, doesn’t leave the place until 5, then goes straight home. Tonight is Friday and the girlie is out with friends. I told her to go, hoping it will give her man incentive. Sitting in my black flivver, I wait patiently outside the city apartment, lighting up wishing the hours would go as quickly as the smokes. Looking over at the flat’s entrance I finally see the scum exit the building. He walks with a quick pace and jumps into a parked red sedan.
He takes off at high speed and I follow just as fast, like a trained dog hot on the trail of a ferrel cat. This surely has perked up my night. He stops out the front of SasRay, a frequent hotspot for hookers, dope fiends and men doing the dirty. This case seems like a sure hit. He gets out of his car carrying a brown paper bag, stops briefly at the door to greet someone, then enters inside. Time to go in. Inside SasRay are seedy drunk men, slipping notes into the panties of various pole dancers and topless ladies. This place is full of scum. I look around to find my cat. I see him at the bar ordering a drink and still holding that brown paper bag that suggests he’s doing more than just the dirty.
I find a place at the bar close, but not too close to him. After about five or so giggle juices later, a man approaches him. He’s wearing a large, dark overcoat, with sleek black hair and a crooked nose, making him look like a crow. They both talk in hushed voices and I struggle to hear. My cat hands the brown bag to this new visitor and they nod in agreement. After a few more exchanged quiet words, my cat looks angry. The other man hastily makes a hand gesture as if he’s praying and backs away. He puts the brown bag into a pocket of his overcoat and as he does I see a flash of shinny metal. This man is loaded. It doesn’t take a snooper like me to know what’s going on. A big deal went down tonight, my only decision now is which squeeze do I follow next?
With my nose on the money I follow the crow out of the bar. I follow him for about a block or so until he stop outsides another San Francisco bar. A location I was wishing he wouldn’t go. It was the Phoenix Bar. The place where Blondie was having drinks with the gals. He enters the bar, the doorman not even looking twice. I enter too, but once inside the crow had already disappeared amongst the sea of guys and bunnies.
Desperately I scan the joint trying to find Blondie and the crow. Towards the back of the room I see the back of what I’m sure is Blondie. I quickly head across the room, weaving amongst bodies, till I reach the woman. I drive, pulling her to the ground. The gals around her scream as does she and I realise after seeing her face that she’s not Blondie! Before I can get up off the floor a shot is fired and through the bustling of people I see the real Blondie fall to the ground. By this time the place is wild and I know I have no chance of getting the crow as breezes from the bar and disappears into the darkness.
In minutes the coppers arrive on the scene. Conversing with these shumucks is the pits. This mob are the type who wouldn’t know a crime if it hit them in the mug. I leave the joint as quickly as I can, heading back to the cat’s pen. I arrive at the apartments again and this time I go inside. Blondie’s been hit with the big sleep and it’s happened right under my schnoze. I fly up the eternity of stairs leading up to her tenth floor apartment, when I get to the door I find it unlocked. Boy is this cat a stray. Pulling out my gun and enter a poorly lit, smoky room and see him sitting by the window uneasily hitting up the pipe. He springs to his feet when he sees me.
“You dumb mug, move an inch and I’ll shove that mud pipe down your mush” I was never any good at talking to cats. He stampers and just about faints. I slowly edge towards him, the gun steady in my hand. He looks around franticly and suddenly dives through the window. But I’m too quick and grab the sucker’s foot. Being the smart devil I am I dangle him for a while and give him the third.
“So you think you can just bump off Blondie just cause’ the gal found out you’re dirty sleaze” I yell at him, still holding him out the window.
“What? No…I….She’s the one being chippy you…” he couldn’t seem to come up with a fair insult while hanging upside-down.
I pull him back inside, slap a pair of nippers around his wrists and push him into a chair.
“She’s the one who’s been doing the dirty, you know, I mean I really was dizzy with this dame. I mean, I loved her. And she’s gone and done this” He’s trembling all over now and looks up at me with madness in his eyes.
“I had to bump her off, she’s deserved it the cheap skirt….and I didn’t even know the broad had a house peeper on me” he adds still with that madness in his eyes. I don’t know whether to believe him or not. This guy is clearly crazy and he proves just how mad this town can be. He puts his head down and I pull out a smoke, contemplating my next move. I see a phone on the table on the other side of the room. Giving him another one of my fatal warnings, I walk over and dial the cops. As I’m talking to the chiefs, I look over and see my cat jumping to his feet and before I know it he’s out the window again. But this time I’m not quick enough. I get to window in time to see his body sprawled in a heap on the ground upside, blood flowing freely from his body. I sit down on the chair and light up another smoke. I guess not all cats land on their feet.
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