Happy Green Birthday #1 RTTingle!

[Uncle Yuan]

I hope you have a great day!

[Alaric]

Happy Birthday!!!

(Trying to think of something clever, possibly pulp hero related, but I'm drawing a blank... Sorry.)

[Glitch Girl]

It was a hot night in the city, humid, heavy... the kind of night you'd expect to hear a lonely saxaphone playing in the background.  Unforunately the guy upstairs played the tuba and was playing like hell.

Business had been slower than molasses in the artic. The secretary had gone home and I was spending some quality time with my old friend Jack Daniels when I heard the knock at the door.  If I had been a luckier man, it would have been a dame wearing a dress that was tight in all the right places.

I wasn't that lucky. 

Instead of a dame, I get some scrawny guy in a chicken suit and a singing telegram.  And, I even had to tip him.

That's the last time I tell Joe at the police station when my birthday is.

Best wishes anyway RTT.    :lol:

[Protomorph]

Happy Birthday RTT!

It was a night, all right. Full of an extreme absence of light. It was beginning to look like I'd be spending the night alone again with my pal Johnny Walker. Then he came through my door.

He tells me his name was Steven. He needed something from me. He asked for my floor mat. What? This old thing? It was your basic office-style plastic mat for chairs to roll on, so the carpet wouldn't get destroyed. He leaned it up against the wall, behind a table, and then wanted something else. This guy was really starting to cheese me off. Who is this guy to be making demands of me? Put my trash can on top of the desk? What am I, an animal?

Just as I tensed up ready to attack, if given provocation, his partner came in. Crap. I wasn't expecting there to be 2 of them. This one had a canister in his hands. Some noxious fumes, perhaps? Strange way to operate a hit squad. Are they trying to lull me into a false sense of security? I remember all to well the lesson of the "window washer".

The second guy began to spray out a liquid all over the floor. What the hell does he think he's doing? Just then the first guy comes back. I had been so fixated on the cannister, I didn't even realize he'd left. He's got his arms full of hoses. He's loaded for bear, if I'm gonna make my move, it should be now. "We're just cleaning your carpets," the spray-guy says. Cleaners, eh? Do they think I was born yesterday? All the same, these guys are pros, better not to give them any provocation to strike early.

I excuse myself for the John, and make my escape out the window, over the ledge to the drainpipe and a small jump to the fire escape. By now, this route is old-hat. I hear the roar of an engine as I hit the street. It's coming from a van marked "Carpet Cleaners", with the hoses they'd carried up to the office attatched to it.

Well, I'll be a monkey's deadbeat nephew. Maybe they were on the level. Maybe I've been cooped up in that office too long. Maybe I should drink my drink at the local watering hole instead. Rug'll probably be wet until tomorrow anyway.


...Hope She won't be there...That Dame is nothing but trouble...

[GhostMachine]

Happy Birthday!

*Plays the opening to The Shadow then the opening to the Green Hornet radio shows*

[RTTingle]

Thanks folks!

I really appreciate the sentiment.

I really can't help but enjoy how my Happy BDay thread has turned into a mini Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest.  So very appropriate and definitely a highlight.  :)

RTT

[The Phantom Eyebrow]

Heh, good stuff guys!  And I hope you had a great one RTT.  :thumbup:

[Spam]

Happy Birthday!