iowahawk: The Big Snooze: "It was a blustery March morning in Manhattan. I hiked up the collar on my trenchcoat and stepped out into a fresh sheet of snow that had fallen in front of the seedy West 80's flop house I call home. Pretty stuff, that snow. But just below the surface it can conceal something icy, something treacherous. Something that can make your Florsheims lose their grip, set your arms and legs windmilling spastically, cause you to make a violent, jarring, assplant into a frigid sidewalk filth-slushee. And in my line of business it's all part of a day's work.and...
My name is Rather. And I'm a dick.
I wiped off the seat of my coat and got in my car. After a few groans, the starter eventually coaxed the snow-covered Hudson Eight coupe to life and I wrestled it through morning traffic down Central Park West. I fishtailed into the concrete canyon of West 57th, sideswiping a supicious looking Hindu and his pretzel cart. What was he yelling? I didn't have time to think about that now. I was due at Black Rock and Captain Moonves would have bigger pretzels for me to investigate."
"I stared blankly out the window, deep in thought, as the Zephyr raced westward toward L.A. The questions kept pouring out of my mind like the cheap rotgut at a Bill Moyers PBS fundraiser. Were the Blog Boys planning another fake-but-true document heist? Was Fat Man Rove laying another ingenious forgery trap? Why were all those people outside the train window waving with one finger? I would have my answers soon enough, and I knew where to get them."
Who could it be? You'll have to read the rest to find out.