Law enforcement cast a dragnet deep into the seething underbelly of the city- putting quite a damper on her usual late night activities. There was dope to be peddled and women to be pandered, but every junkie was a plant, and every john an informant. On every street corner resounding cries for normalcy could be heard.
“You know what’s wrong with this world? Nobody cares about the little guy anymore. Some idiot decides he’s gonna go for the big money, snap up some rich guys kid, but does he stop ta think about what that’s gonna do to the guy in the street bustin’ his ass just tryin’a make a livin’?”
“It’ll blow over. Stuff like dis always does. Remember a couple a years ago when dat guy, what was his name? Took a pot shot at da president? Ha! Dis berg closed up tighter dan a drum! But we bounced back. We always do.”
“So we got some time off. Wadda ya say we go fishin’? Rocco’s been tellin’ me about a sweet little number over in the Dockside Marina. Dual 500 HP outboards, depth finder, tuna towers. Owners in Hong Kong or something. That little babies just sittin’ there waitin’ for some action.”
Written for Crimson’s Creative Challenge photo prompt. OK. So I been watching too much film noir…