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  • WJ King

"SCARY BUNCH, BUT MINE"

My monnicker is Biff Flank, I’m a private Investigator who solves murders. I occasionally rough up ne'er do wells and the dames love me. I work out of an office in downtown Ionia in a thirty six story office building. Just me and my secretary, Karen, the only dame that doesn’t love me but the dish makes great coffee. Today, I’m on my way to the riverfront, to talk to a longshoreman that shipped out of Saranac Michigan, wanted to put some miles between him and home after he found his wife murdered. The Saranac coppers are tryin’ to put the finger on him for it. I’ve gotta dark secret in my life that only Kar knows but I have no idea, she’s aware of it...


If I may interrupt, I’m Bill King but you would recognize me as W.J. King, worldwide best selling author. I could go on about myself but I’m going over my character files and as usual they have something to say. Some of them are heroes, some would go back to bed if they saw trouble.


Hi, I’m Alyce and I’m thirty-three years old. I’m a knockout, even if I do say so myself, 5’9’, red hair, blue eyes and legs clear to my ass. I’m married, at least at work, to a commercial airline pilot. I’m cheating on him with a russian interpreter at the U.N. Being ‘married’ to a pilot gives me a terrific cover for my job with...well, I really can’t say.


Whassup? I’m Mike, M-I-K-E, Mike, don’t forget my name, crazier’n a shit house rat. Know where that phrase came from? Rats livin’ under a shit house ingest the fumes from their environment and are thus deranged. Back to me. I have eight distinct personalities and six of them are psychopathic murderers. Among the ‘old gang’ are the candy asses, a policeman and a nun who can’t bring themselves to rat on the others. Meanwhile, I’m stabbin’, shootin and my favorite, burning people alive like there’s no tomorrow...


I’m not surprised you’re just getting to me. I’m no stranger to being overlooked by this horse’s ass of a wannabe author. Yvette here, a struggling actress because shit for brains couldn’t write a screenplay if his ass was on fire and don’t ask me the correlation, it’s just one of his favorite expressions. If my introduction could be moved up a few chapters, I’d show my stuff and…


As you can see, good people, bad people and divas are as real in ink as the flesh. It’s not an easy task juggling a line up of a-listers. By the way, this is Bill again. Each has their own personality, sometimes more. An author is a quarterback of sorts. Point, steer, maintain control except when they can’t. Finally, one night you’re looking at the snow flurries through the window of your chalet, the characters paid for with best sellers. Tapping on your laptop sending your character to a remote warehouse but your protagonist thinks the old woman’ attic is where the secret is hidden. Seemingly, all autonomous. Afterall, I’m Sarah now and just another of Mike’s personalities. I not only terminate people but eat them afterwards and I have to go out tonight. The tail wags the dog and you, Bill, continue to aimlessly bang on the keys of your laptop. .


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