Jack MurphyThere is a man sitting at a bar. It is an obviously seedy and dank place. He is smoking, he takes a swig from a small glass which apparently contains whiskey. He sighs then looks up to the audience, takes a drag then begins to talk:Jack Murphy
Name’s Murphy…Jack Murphy. Detective…make that ex-detective of the Brooklyn precinct. It was just another night, and she was just another dame. At least that’s what I thought.
I was walking home, ‘bout midnight, maybe a bit later, but who really cares? And I spotted some big guys down an alley, they were hassling someone. I made my way over. “What’s goin’ on here?” I said
-OFFENSIVE-
help me!
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I ate The Waifs.
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I ate The Waifs.
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... I said &
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