Beauty often seduces us on the road to the truth.

It's only been a few days, but I've already got Writer's Block for the blog, which is impressive considering that each entry is just me violently expelling my thoughts onto e-paper. So it is now time for a change of pace!

I downed the last dregs of my drink, looking shiftily around the bar. She had beckoned to me ten minutes ago, seductively giving me "the eyes," telling me softly in my ear so that the rest of these mooks couldn't hear that she knew something I didn't. Something about Deputy Spade. She had told me to meet her in the motel down the road in room 1134. It was probably a trap, but this dame couldn't be out for blood. No, there was something in her eyes that suggested she wanted something else. Something I slyly deduced that only I could offer to her. This was going to end the way I wanted it, no doubt about that.

I got up from my seat and tip Moe before walking outside and lighting a cigarette. The rain came down in torrents, like God himself was unleashing his wrath, the purging power of water among the corrupt, those who can't be salvaged, like myself. Fuck the water, I thought. Nothing can help you redeem yourself in this world. Nothing except your own desires. The only thing that can cleanse you is the soap that you bring.

I continued to walk down the street, passing overflowing garbage cans and bums crying out for spare change to feed their alcoholism. I kept my hat tipped low, masking my face, hoping to hide myself from the squalid world that laid out before me. I heard my own footsteps echoing in the rain, clunk clunk. The final key to my problems was right in front of me, I was about to crack the case. And yet I hesitated; I walked slower, puffing my cigarette slowly. The prize was right in front of me, I just had to grab it. Why didn't I want it? I worked for it, rode a bumpy road for miles on end, and when I here, I began to slow down. Strange it may sound, but there was a part of me that wanted to stay ignorant, to not wrap up the mystery.

Regardless, I trooped on. I saw the flickering neon sign of the Aloha Motel, flashing erratically like thunder. I crossed the street and walked to the motel, searching for Room 1134. Again, I began to slow down, my cigarette was beginning to die out. I flicked it to the parking lot and stopped in front of the room. I let out a sigh, looked up. It was over, I thought. I knocked.

I heard a sultry voice utter the magic words I was looking for. I creaked open the door and saw her, looking positively stunning. This dame was hot. I asked her what she wanted to see me for, to which she whispered something about important things. Before I knew it, we were in each other's naked caress. She continued to speak softly into my ears, but I didn't respond, I didn't listen. I was too occupied with what was going on in front of me that I paid whatever she had to say no heed. Animality, beastial desires had seized control of me, all I wanted to do was ravage her.

And then all I could feel was cold. Treacherous dame. I fell back onto the floor, saw her dialing into a phone and going into the bathroom. I smelled gunsmoke. Damn, I was a fool. Damn.

PS. Being completely devoid of ideas will usually result in me doing this. Writing nonsensical fiction, bad poetry, and other bullshit. I want to experiment, like a 14-year old closet homosexual. Speaking of which, tomorrow we return to our regularly scheduled programming. So stay tuned, cockmunchers.