Jul 17, 2011 16:11
[It's a night that seems like any other night, because it's always night in film noir land. The air in the lounge is full of idle chatter, the stink of cigar smoke, booze, and most importantly, music. I'm decked to the nines, and, as always, definitely the finest creature in the room. Just readjust my cap a little... There. Perfect. Hanamura, you handsome devil you.]
[It's all the usual subjects. People dropping in for a stiff drink after another disappointing day, a bartender with endless patience for a sob story, a few jazz aficionados, a johnny-come-lately with his arm wrapped around the waist of daddy's little girl. I can't help but give him a grin and knowing nod when she isn't looking-- lucky bastard! But, eh, I wouldn't take the risk. Her daddy's a policeman and wouldn't waste a second getting that boy into more trouble than he ever imagined.]
[Aaah, if only an interesting scene would unfold. Danger! Intrigue! Excitement! All it takes is the right players on the stage. And I know all the players.]
[But the band plays until dawn. That means I'm gonna be busy. Still, watching is almost as fun, and I've got the best seat in the house, only behind my upright bass.]
film noir,
gratuitous self narration,
event,
in a smoke-filled room