Just The Facts, Ma'am.

It was a dark and stormy night. My dogs were barkin' after a long night of pounding the pavement. I guided my key into the keyhole, turned the rusty knob, and threw my trench coat and hat in the vicinity of the coat rack.

Suddenly, there was a sharp rap on my door. (dum da dum dum).

"Yeah?" The door opened. A tall lanky kid. 6'3". Freckles. Red baseball cap. Not much to look at.

"Message for a Mr. Butt. Are you Butt?" I cringed. People were always getting it wrong.

"It's BOOT, not Butt. Yeah. I'm him." I snatched the envelope from the kid's hand. His had remained outstretched. I dug in my pocket and fished out a few coins and some pieces of blue pocket lint. I dropped it all in his hand and sent him on his way. (dum da dum dum).

"Top Secret". That's what it said. The envelope was crumpled, crinkled. A coffee stain spread across the left corner like a birthmark the shape of West Virginia. I had been hopin' for a quiet night. Hot cup of coffee, ham sandwich from the deli down the street and the newspaper. Was that too much to ask?

I tapped the envelope against my temple. Hmmmm. I caught a whiff of something. Perfume. Some Dame. Great. They never stick with just the facts. They're always wanting something more. Always wanting to make more of something than what it is.

I ran my fingers through the file cabinet in my mind. Nothin. This envelope was startin' to itch me where I couldn't scratch. (dum da dum dum).

I grabbed the letter opener from my desk drawer and jabbed it under the flap on the envelope. Again, the smell of perfume punched me in the face like a back alley bum. Yeah. This was some dame alright. I stared at the photographs. Impossible. Dames. My life was about to change. Dames. (dum da dum dum.....dum).