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the proverbial turd in the old Christmas punchbowl. He became huffy, red faced and curt. Using big words that were loaded with double meanings. You know what they say, the mediocre jerk-offs always have the biggest egos … oh, yeah. In any event, it turned out that the lesbian dumpsite fell under state jurisdiction and not federal and so Frankenlotter had to back off quick—much to my personal satisfaction—and so it was down to just Fred Hinklemeyer and me. Hinklemeyer was about as sharp as a marble—not the slickest dick in the bizz— and subsequently I outsmarted him and in the process tricked a confession out of the two lesbians—we also bagged them on a local charge involving the fact that the chemicals they had dumped had found their way into a nearby pond. The end results of that boondoggle were hordes of five-legged frogs hoping all over the fricking place. Anyway, after the mess at my cousin Jimmy’s cleared up, I got offered a job with the WCDD. A bigshot special agent from Oregon, a one Captain Fellersbach, had sat in on the case and watched developments from the sidelines. Apparently he liked my style. Yeah, baby! 26

“Really liked the way you grilled the confession

The Metric Issue 08 - Literary Magazine  
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