So this short sip of water walks into my room. And she comes in talking, and talking fast, setting off my bitch-early-warning system.
Yeah. I’m already annoyed, watching her watching me while she staccatos me with this laundry list of shit she wants done, yeah, you guessed it, by me, for her. She’s that kind of broad. Looks like she’s used to getting her way. A real bitch. You know the type.
And we haven’t even talked about paying me yet. But after a listen to this chick’s shit list, I can hear the metal at the bottom of my till ringing and pinging with all that cold hard cash of hers spilling right on into it, so I’m beginning to listen pretty well.
Seems Blondie wants me to find some guy she calls, get this, evil. What the hell, lady? I say to her. Evil? You think I can find one single evil guy here in Gotham? Like there’s only one? Sure there is, lady. Sure.
Listen. It’s like this, short sip says. Evil’s not like any other man you’ll ever see. He stands out. He’s got these muttonchops that’ll keep me warm at night, in all the right places…
And I’m thinking I could do little Blondie some legwarming all my own, but no, she’s motoring on with her shit list about this Evil guy. ‘Cause it turns out, that’s not his nickname, that’s his fucking first name. His actual moniker. Yeah.
And then it hits me. I met that guy at a party. Got a nipple ring, if you can believe that shit. And he was being, you know, ministered to in this hot tub out back of his big house by some woman from Dubai or somewhere. And I’m being paid to find some blonde chick and keep her away from them.
And then I sit up real straight, ‘cause I know right where Blondie is.