Woodland Creature Noir

Chapter 1: The Bumping Off of Sam the Turtle

It wasn't supposed to end this way. Laying on his back, Sam the Turtle just looked up at Jake the Squirrel, the still smoking revolver dropped at his side. The rain beat down over the squirrel's overcoat, and somewhere in the distance sirens could be heard. There was no need for words, they both knew the score. Tommy "Two-Toes" McGee had knocked up the price on Sam's head last Thursday to a cool 12-lbs of acorns. The whole neighborhood knew Sam's time was up. For the last three weeks, he'd managed to lay low, hidden away in a different borough every couple of days. But this time Sam had been too slow to move, gotten too comfortable where he was hiding. "Dames," Sam thought to himself, "if only it weren't for Jenny, I'da been outta here three days ago". The regretful turtle would have kicked himself, but his legs didn't bend like that. Jenny was a dame, but oh, what a dame.

It was a week ago, at The Moonlight and Dewdrops. Sam wasn't even supposed to be there. He was trying to get back to his pad down on the corner of Pondscum and Maple, but some unnervingly long gazes from strangers on the bus caused him to lose his cool and he'd hopped off four blocks early. "I'll just slip in the front and out the back," he'd told himself as he past the doorman and into the club, "just keep your head down and walk cool Sam, you can do this. Ain't nobody knows who you are, ain't nobody got a good look atcha', ain't nob...", Sam stopped. He was staring at the stage. He was staring at what all the other guys in the joint where staring at. Jenny the Opossum, bathed in the spotlight and piano, had just begun to sing. Her voice slipped between the tables like molassas on warm corn cakes. Dark and heavy, it cut off even the most hard-boiled cats (the Calico twins) midsentence. For the first time in weeks, Sam forgot his troubles. He forgot about the horse racing job Jonny Spatz had left him holding the bag on. He forgot about how since then Two-toes goons were always chasing at his heels and they weren't looking to negotiate. He even forgot that rumor he'd heard about McGee's new Moll being some kinda marsupial song-an'-dance gal. Applesauce, why had he forgotten that!