Post by Leonardo on Jan 31, 2014 20:51:23 GMT -6
The New York Cafe was the poshest joint in the area. So posh, in fact, that they had a fancy little dog area for humans to drop off their pets. It sounded like fun, but the pets were often just as posh or posher than their owners, and they certainly weren't good for conversation. Shepard Diggs was here on very important business. He was going to interview local mob boss, Mr. ___ Crowley. It was both exciting and terrifying. He knew however that these fancy pedigrees weren't Crowley's crowd. He had to be working this area though, so where was his operation situated?
"Excuse me? Excuse me little weiner man." Shep walked up to a dachsund.
The pedigree raised an eyebrow and looked up to him. "...I'm a dachsund....and I'm a woman."
There was a dead silence for a minute, broken by the shriek of a falcon as it snatched a pidgeon out of the air somewhere. How appropriate. Because this was hawkward. "Ooooohhh I'm sorry. I couldn't tell-you know, between this mesh fence and your shortness, I couldn't see your--"
The dachsund coughed, uncomfortable with this. "How can I help you, sir?"
"I'm looking for illegal activity."
"In New York? What a difficult task."
That was actually funny for a sarcastic and spoiled little bitch. "That was actually funny for a sarcastic and spoiled little bitch."
"What?""
"I said--Crap, was actually hunting for some plastic for my...spoiled little bitch..."
The dachsund stared at him in disbelief. "That didn't sound like what you said."
"It's probably my jewish accent. Aghgghhgh" He shrugged. "Oy vey." Suddenly he saw an area where some dogs were working in the back. Bingo. "That's where I need to be. You pets have fun in this cage. Thanks...Ms....?"
"Peach."
"Beetch. Right." He got up and strolled into the alley way, looking for the one called Crowley.
"Excuse me? Excuse me little weiner man." Shep walked up to a dachsund.
The pedigree raised an eyebrow and looked up to him. "...I'm a dachsund....and I'm a woman."
There was a dead silence for a minute, broken by the shriek of a falcon as it snatched a pidgeon out of the air somewhere. How appropriate. Because this was hawkward. "Ooooohhh I'm sorry. I couldn't tell-you know, between this mesh fence and your shortness, I couldn't see your--"
The dachsund coughed, uncomfortable with this. "How can I help you, sir?"
"I'm looking for illegal activity."
"In New York? What a difficult task."
That was actually funny for a sarcastic and spoiled little bitch. "That was actually funny for a sarcastic and spoiled little bitch."
"What?""
"I said--Crap, was actually hunting for some plastic for my...spoiled little bitch..."
The dachsund stared at him in disbelief. "That didn't sound like what you said."
"It's probably my jewish accent. Aghgghhgh" He shrugged. "Oy vey." Suddenly he saw an area where some dogs were working in the back. Bingo. "That's where I need to be. You pets have fun in this cage. Thanks...Ms....?"
"Peach."
"Beetch. Right." He got up and strolled into the alley way, looking for the one called Crowley.