*Part One*
It has been said that God created Man in his Image.
If that was true, what kind of God created Remington Strange?
Tall he was, tall and lanky. Arms and legs like any other man but his were slightly...off...
Off how?
Well, they were blue.
The man was blue. As blue as the afternoon sky.
The afternoon sky was a good way to describe him. His hair was the color of the clouds.
He kept it short, long hair was a liability in his line of work.
He kept it short because he thought the ladies liked it.
He kept it short because, well, it looked shabby if he grew it.
What line of work would suit this blue skinned, white haired man?
Why, he was a Private Dick of course. For shame that you would even have to ask. Have you never heard the tales of Remington Strange?
No, I suppose you haven't. For if you had there would be no need for this Introduction.
He kept his details to himself from his true name to his age.
Some say it was because he truly didn't know, others because he liked the mystery it created.
Truth? You'd have to ask the man. Oh, he would tell you, over some frosty beers. Beers that you bought. Beers that he only drank half of because hell, he wasn't a huge fan of the drink. He just liked to get loose.
You can get loose and still make a profit. The man liked money. He liked money almost as much as he liked women. Sad part? He never had much of either. Now, don't get me wrong, the man was as charming as any could imagine but good luck finding a lady that can get past the Blue.
Why was he blue? What was with that hair?
Hell, he didn't know.
That's the truth on that matter.
He could ask his folks if he knew who they were. Sadly, this is one of those orphan type situations.
The man spent most of his life at the Spaulding Home for Orphaned Children. Someone dropped this beautiful blue baby boy off on the steps years ago in the pouring rain. Poor thing.
Why did they do it? Ask them if you find them. The man don't care none. Sure, made him sad that he didn't know anything of who he really was but he made the best of it.
Plus, it left him open to play the mystery angle with his clients.
Also, with the ladies.
Now, he never was real popular with the other kids. He was your typical outcast child. He liked to read. What kind of books? He liked the books about detectives. Should have seen that one coming. Really. They didn't pick him for sports. Suited him fine. He had better things to do, he had cases to solve.
Sure, they were all in his head but you have to start somewhere.
No one wanted to be friends with the little blue boy.
You didn't need friends if you had yourself a vivid imagination.
*End Part One.*
No comments:
Post a Comment