Where You Go Detective Diago

Joe Diago sat back in his cushy office chair, pushed his hat back on his head - the same as his P.I. cousin down the hall as they shopped at the same hat store - and stared at the ceiling fan while listening to it making it's whoop, whoop sound as it pushed down the cool air, what little cool air there was. The constant swish of the blades made him dreary and he fought to keep his eyes open. Things were slow in the Private Eye business lately and if something didn't come along soon that fan wouldn't be spinning around anymore because he'd not have been able to pay his electricity bill.

What was that ringing in his ears? He'd drifted off and hadn't realized the telephone was chirping. It was an unusual sound as he hadn't heard it in weeks and almost forgot that destinctive trill of the telephone.

Diago looked at the dial. "Diago Detective Agency" he spoke into the receiver, though very few knew the "agency" consisted of Detective Diago.

"Yes, hello. This is Donna. Donna Diablo and I need your help Detective Diago."

"Please call me Joe."

"Well, if I do that this bit won't work, Diago."

"Oh, I see, yes. Continue Mrs. Diable."

"Well, Diago something diabolical has happened. Someone has stolen my diamonds.

"Your diamonds, Diablo? That's something worthy of my unique investigative diagnosis!"

"Well, I'd appreciate your diagnosis because losing my faux Lady Diana diamonds has given my husband considerable concern. You should have heard the diatribe he unleashed on me last night. We couldn't even have a decent dialogue."

"I'm beside myself Detective Diago. I haven't slept, I have diarrhea and my diabetes is through the roof. Not to mention my diaphragm keeps popping out. I won't rest until this diabolical business is put to rest?

"Gosh you sound as though you'll be in diapers soon, Mrs Diablo."

"Do you need a diagram of where the diamonds were kept."

"Actually because we live in a diaspora I'm confident this won't take long. And with a "dia"lect like yours Mrs Diablo I'm sure we'll succeed."

The prompt this week from the folks at Studio30+ was dialect. I took some liberties.

30 Days of Photos III #4 Sour

Check out Ziva's Inferno for the rest of today's photos.

My Back Pages - November

I know, I know, I know I should have reported in before now. But sometimes real life just gets in the way. I attempted 5 books in November. I say attempted because I slapped a big DNF (did not finish) on Neal Stephenson's Cryptonomicon. I just can't seem to get into this guy. It's the second or third of his I've given up on, Not so the other four, starting with a biography of Stephen Stills called Change Partners. This followed by a hilarious biography of the guy responsible for National Lampoon called A Stupid and Futile Gesture - How Doug Kenney and National Lampoon Changed Comedy Forever. I ended the month reading yet another biography, this one of the man behind Rolling Stone magazine,. It was called Sticky Fingers: The Life and Times of Jann Wenner and Rolling Stone Magazine. A fascinating read. So last month I hit the magic number 50 I'd imagined for myself back in January. If I roll this month into my yearly total I'm at 54 books. And I still hav...

30 Days of Writing - Day #1 - Cheese

Well, here we go again folks. As if it weren't enough that I knocked myself out in April participating in 30 Days of Photos, now dear Nicky and Mike over at We Work For Cheese have corralled a bunch of us suckers into a 30 Days of Writing exercise. Yeah, I know. I must have stupid written backwards on my forehead. I don't know how they figured it out. They would have had to look in my mirror to realize it. Anyhoo, the first day's theme is - surprise, surprise - cheese. And here are the internet imbeciles Nicky and Mike managed to sucker into to this little exercise: Well, first off there's me! Once you've read my post you can visit: Mike and Nicky , Cheryl , If I Were God , Katherine , Laughing Mom , Linda M , Malisa , MikeWJ , Sandra , Leeuna and Still Unfinished . Okay, who cut the cheese? Well growing up in my house it was usually my mother. She prepared and served the food and the knife ...

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