LILAH! Munch and LILAH!

Oh, man, mind is going to a happy place with this.

Darla won’t hunt with me anymore because she says I talk too much, and scare the prey away.

If Munch wore teeshirts....

BWAH!

“Your dossier mentions you’re...funny.” She spits it out like she said “syphillitic” or “lice-ridden” She clutches a briefcase that cost more than my first car.
. “Hilarious, babe. An absolute fucking scream, once you acquire the taste. I demand to see that file, under the Freedom of Information Act. I’ve got to tell you, I always thought this day would come. You’re late, though. The revolution’s not only televised, it’s on Pay Per View, huh?”Even as I give her all my attitude, I have the habitual wish not to go too far, in case. In case what, moron? In case she and Dru and Darla, and hell, let's throw Kay in too, wanna have an I'd Schtup John Munch pajama party?! Right, sure.

“The FOIA only applies to government agencies...I represent a private firm looking for an investigating...subcontractor.”

”I thought you were too gorgeous for a spook. But you could be this century’s Mata Hari, couldn’t you....the softer side of black helicopters.”

“I’m prepared to offer you fifty thousand dollars to help bring down Angel Investigations. And keep an eye on Darla. She was supposed to do it, but she got distracted by a new toy.”

”Why do I have the feeling I’m Che Guevara and you’re my friend Fidel asking me out to look at the scenery? I can’t do it this week...I’ve got to suck a pint of O-neg with the boys at Philip Morris.”

(snerksnerksnerk)

She’s trying to look tough and protect her shoes at the same time, a move that reminds me of Megan Russert.

Heh.

But you could be this century’s Mata Hari, couldn’t you....the softer side of black helicopters.

Snerk!

Why do I have the feeling I’m Che Guevara and you’re my friend Fidel asking me out to look at the scenery?

BWAH!

Even my mom, the least tin-foil-hat wearing hippie ever, believes that one. Don't ask me how it came up when I was ten, but..."Oh, yeah, Castro killed him."I think that was her unit on "Good Guys Don't Always Win" Surprising I didn't fit in in grade school, huh? I thought it was funny to have Munchkin not trust her, but still want to look good to her."I think I hate her, but damn, she's hot." Would that be enough to keep him talking? Or would it be the $.ETA: Thanks, Anne.It scares me how little prep that voice takes. I'm gonna be all "You kids get off my lawn or share your stash."

I'm thinking vampMunch is still Munch enough to figure he can get a good look at Cinspiracyville by hanging out with the bad boys. And in this instance, the bad boys are represented by a leggy brunette with a briefcase full of money.

And it's a way to get Munch face to face with Kay again.

That would be a Munch dream come true...except. And, infiltration is probably his second favorite -ation ever. And, pretty. And smart. And scary. A Munchkin trifecta...

Precisement. Go get 'em!

I considered for a moment, as I paced the dealership’s now-deserted parking area.

During my brief stint in lefty journalism, during which I was an unmitigated disaster, we used to talk about “comforting the afflicted and afflicting the comfortable”. Which, because I had more passion than sense, I took to mean submitting six-page reviews of Hunter Thompson books...two hours late.

They were things of beauty, even if I was too herbally enhanced to appreciate the concept of “deadlines” and “news holes”. I quit after that, but not before I called my friend and editor, Larry, a “censoring, fascist, asshole.” Most people don’t take writing “New in Paperback” that seriously, I understand.

I’m not most people. I’d stopped believing in second chances a long time ago, but I was more than willing to afflict Ms. Morgan. Over and over.Maybe until she screamed.

“Can I see it?” I asked.

“See what?”Her voice sounded like she had her hands on her hips even though she was standing perfectly still and straight. Maybe she did know a few things about me.

“The attache case full of money. What did you think I meant? Every back room deal has one, babe.”

“I’m not your babe. And I’d never travel around with that much cash.’

“You’re awfully picky for somebody who wants dirty work done, *Ms* Morgan.” I said, “How do you know I’m not taping this?”

“It’s not just me,” she said, in a smaller voice. “It’s the senior partners...They...” But she seemed to think better of it and came on like a dragon lady again. “My job...my rules. Are you coming or not?
It occurred to me that over the last weeks I’d taken a lot of orders from women.But I got in the car anyway.