There's a thousand stories in the City, all of them a page turner but none with any real ending in sight.

The night is warm almost balmy thanks to an early promise of Spring. The sky clear with a gentle breeze. Perfect for lovers who want to stroll outdoors. Maybe lay out in the soft grass of the garden surrounded by the mingle perfumes of countless flowers. Stare up at the stars.

Things aren't quite so romantic when reality comes pushing in. Slight chill, ants, bitter underscent, and the cold light. Maybe love turns to hate or something far worse.

That far latter happened on this supposedly perfect night. Crazed angel, five captive women, and a remote hideaway. He was in the mood for twisted love, they were turned into the Manson Girls.

My kid brother Jan, who knew three of them, didn't handle the news well. Almost went into a mad rage - would have been Godzilla destroying Tokyo. Anything that got in his path smashed flat. Playing Mothra I put him out of commission for awhile. Don't know what to do when the nap is over. Hope to have a plan by then or call Rodan upstairs for help.

Less of a negative reaction if he hadn't fallen hard for a stacked dame fickle with a captial 'F'? I knew the torch he long carried got snuffed-out yesterday. That precious little flame protected all thru the flirting, cheating, and betrayal put out by his own hand.

Didn't matter why he did it, past was the past. No point in crying anymore over split milk long gone sour.


(OOC - suppose to be one of those cheesy pulp/noir writer types. Cripes this was so much funnier in my head)