CHASE - This just got personal.
It’s too quiet. And dark. My name is Detective McArooatew and this is what I do; I listen, and feel, and watch. Like a hawk or an Osprey or something. Chalk was trapped in that warehouse and I knew it. I knew Chalk was a dead man, well, woman, whatever. Chalk was too pretty to die, and I loved her and I never told her and I didn’t even know her last name, or if her first name was her real name or a nickname. And thats when things started to happen fast.
First a text, then a car starts, and Whump cocks her head.
They say pugs don’t make good crime dogs and they’re right, but here she is and she aint going nowhere, I got another dog on my hip that says so…It’s a gun.
Hunkering down I glance left then right, “Cover me Whump. Stay. Staaaay. Sit. Good girl. Now stay.”
And now its time for action, for Chalk…for love. I’m her only chance, so carefully, and quietlly, and deliberately, and quietly I creep. Behind this pile of trash, under that car, back behind the pile of trash. Carefully making my way to the warehouse preparing to unleash my hounds. My bullet hounds that is. It’s fightin’ time, and I knows, it and I love it. I can feel it in my bones.
BOOM
“Fuck”
Illuminated by the explosion, even a dumb man could read the look on my face. “C’mon girl. come. WHUMP come.” This just got personal, and whoever is behind the attack, whoever is sitting in that car, whoever wanted Chalk dead…is a real dickweed.
