Lucky Remington stubbed out his last Pall Mall of the day. A damn waste of a day, was what it was. His partner, Moses, had been out all week and Lucky hadn’t heard from a single client since then. He reached for the door, but before he could close his mitt on the knob, it whipped open. Lucky almost reached for his heater, but then he got a good look at what was in the hall.
The dame wore green, her lips and nails painted crimson.
“Mr. Remington?” A plea, softly accented.
“Who’s askin’?”
“My name is Lettera. Lettera Olivetti, and I need your help.”
In one shaking, well-manicured hand, she held out a typewritten note. Even before he took it, he knew it was a ransom demand.
Her lip quivered. "Can you help me, Mr. Remington?"
He smiled. All of the sudden, the evening was a lot more interesting.
I spotted the back of the case from across a crowded room (of junk.) I'm not sure that I even gave Lucky a proper going-over, I just snapped the case shut and walked around until I stopped feeling faint.
Yours is in much better shape than mine, Mike. At least cosmetically. Mine has seen some serious use. The keytops are so work from use that several of them no longer have any visible letter on them - just oddly misshapen nubbins. But dang that thing can still type. The noiseless action is definitely an acquired taste if you're used to the feel of a more traditional machine. It takes a few minutes to re-adjust each time I get it out, but I love it
(word verif = "sesse". Still searching or a discernible pattern.)
Beautiful Lucky - what an exciting find! I like the description of how you "snapped the case shut and walked around until I stopped feeling faint"... man, we've all been there! It's a great place to be :)
8 comments:
Good call on the name. It has the cocksure grin of someone named Lucky.
Hah, you're right! Perhaps Lucky just stepped out of a Dashiell Hammett. I hear he's aces with the dames.
Lucky Remington stubbed out his last Pall Mall of the day. A damn waste of a day, was what it was. His partner, Moses, had been out all week and Lucky hadn’t heard from a single client since then. He reached for the door, but before he could close his mitt on the knob, it whipped open. Lucky almost reached for his heater, but then he got a good look at what was in the hall.
The dame wore green, her lips and nails painted crimson.
“Mr. Remington?” A plea, softly accented.
“Who’s askin’?”
“My name is Lettera. Lettera Olivetti, and I need your help.”
In one shaking, well-manicured hand, she held out a typewritten note. Even before he took it, he knew it was a ransom demand.
Her lip quivered. "Can you help me, Mr. Remington?"
He smiled. All of the sudden, the evening was a lot more interesting.
"Miss Olivetti...call me Lucky."
LOL and they lived happily ever after. The end
Happily ever after? I don't think it was headed that direction.
I look for these Rems all over and have yet to meet one face-to-face.
I spotted the back of the case from across a crowded room (of junk.) I'm not sure that I even gave Lucky a proper going-over, I just snapped the case shut and walked around until I stopped feeling faint.
Yours is in much better shape than mine, Mike. At least cosmetically. Mine has seen some serious use. The keytops are so work from use that several of them no longer have any visible letter on them - just oddly misshapen nubbins. But dang that thing can still type.
The noiseless action is definitely an acquired taste if you're used to the feel of a more traditional machine. It takes a few minutes to re-adjust each time I get it out, but I love it
(word verif = "sesse". Still searching or a discernible pattern.)
Beautiful Lucky - what an exciting find! I like the description of how you "snapped the case shut and walked around until I stopped feeling faint"... man, we've all been there! It's a great place to be :)
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