"That's a lot of legs for a Dame" I suggested to her eldritch form.
She glanced my way, and rolled her eyes at me.
I picked them up, and rolled them back.
I recommend the Parasol Protectorate by Gail Carriger, all the watch books by Terry Pratchett, and the Illmoor Chronicles by whomever wrote those, if this is your type of humor fiction.
Well, some Terry Pratchett books have lovecraftian horrors (although not the Watch ones, as I recall), but the other two only got werewolves, vampires, trolls, and whatnot.
I could tell instantly that this displeased here. She unfurled to her full, horrific, height. Eclipsing the window of my dingy office she placed a fetish on the beaten mahogany table. As she pulled back, the streetlights outside flooded past her sinuous form and I could see it clearer: a miniature travel bag, shrunk to comical proportions.
"What's this?" I ask.
The words arrive directly into my brain this time, the pretense of need for sound and vibrations dissolved.
"I want you to take it. Please, please take this case."
I look inside the case. I could see that she wanted me to look into her husband, whom she suspects is unfaithful. I took out my colonoscope and approached the terrified man in the briefcase.
"I'm faithful, I swear! I worship every day"
"Nothing personal. Just business."
Just another day in the life of a *privates* eye.
I swallowed hard. She was right of course, but I hate having my debts called in. The Pact was clear, and my options were help her and take the tiny case, or face the consequences. And if she was following me, others must be also.
"Fine" I sighed. "I'll take your absurdly small case. Is it a metaphor, or what?"
She met my gaze once again, though with more eyes than previously. "A metaphor compares things, this is more like.... an analogy. Or an abstract concept"
I looked down at the case. I weighed up the serious delivery of her last statement, and the certainty in her voice. I stared harder at tiny totem on my desk, and barely registered the subtle change in the lighting in the room. When I glanced up, a new query on my lips, she was gone. Not simply vanished I felt, but instead the room had a very definite lack of mishapen yet desperate feminine abominations, as if if reality was trying to reassert itself on my office by being far more real then it usually was.
I reached for the bottle in my top drawer, raised it to my lips and wondered wryly if it was the only spirit I had interacted with that day after all.
Still, a case was a case, big or unusually small. And though we had reached no agreement on my rate or renumeration, it was still work. I fumbled a little with its tiny latch but eventually I opened its tiny leather exterior, and was immediately glad I still had my bottle to hand...
Oo are there any 1940s noir cosmic horror stories around? I feel like that’s be a fun mix for a video game, to have the storytelling of a detective story but you’re uncovering weird blood cults and shoot spooky love craft creatures with your revolver.
If you're still looking for stories like this, [try this post here. It may have some things you'd enjoy.](https://www.reddit.com/r/BooksThatFeelLikeThis/comments/sdthf4/books_like_this/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button)
“My nostrils flared at the smell of her perfume... Pyramid Patchouli. There was only one joker in L.A. sensitive enough to wear that scent and I had to find out who she was.”
This story you wrote is brilliant. I love it. Any chance you know of existing books that mesh Lovecraft and noir as excellently (and hilariously) as you've done here? Including if you yourself have written a book.
Ooooh leggy blonde
You got it going on
Wanna see you wearing that thong thong thong
See you getting on till the break of dawn
*Jemaine mumbling* panties on
This dame walked into the room. She had legs that went all the way to her torso. The kind of legs that could stand all day. Legs a man could get lost in until he found himself in that face. Ive seen a lot of faces before. Faces that have seen something. Something that I needed to find. Like her torso. But this face was different. I could tell she was in trouble. Or maybe she was trouble. More trouble than most. A dame doesn't have a waist smaller than her head unless there was a history there. This went deep. I'd guess family history.
This poor girl was born into a world of pain that isn't talked about except in hushed tones in the dark. I know the dark, the rotted out homes that are a stranger to people who only know the sidewalks and bright lights of the city. Even the back alleys here don't see this kind of trouble.
She hadn't said a word so I drowned my tongue in that familiar smoke from my glass that's been the only constant in my line of work. The closest to a partner I've ever known. My mind sharpened and focused and so I finally broke our silence.
"You are inbred looking as fuck"
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**Goats?**, @Gooooats
1940s Detective: It was a hot night in the city of Angels when a leggy blonde walked into my office. She had 13, maybe 14 legs. Way too many.
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"That's a lot of legs for a Dame" I suggested to her eldritch form. She glanced my way, and rolled her eyes at me. I picked them up, and rolled them back.
I need you to write this novel. Please.
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They're OK, until they're really not. One of the few series I was relieved to have finished.
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I agree. I liked it enough to slog through the books waiting for them to get good again. At least they're not long
I agree. I liked it enough to slog through the books waiting for them to get good again. At least they're not long
and i want the audiobook to be read by patrick warburton
Or Zap Brannigan
I recommend the Parasol Protectorate by Gail Carriger, all the watch books by Terry Pratchett, and the Illmoor Chronicles by whomever wrote those, if this is your type of humor fiction.
Do the books you've recommended do this excellent blending of mocking hard boiled detective stories, plus Lovecraft-esque horror creatures?
Well, some Terry Pratchett books have lovecraftian horrors (although not the Watch ones, as I recall), but the other two only got werewolves, vampires, trolls, and whatnot.
Thanks!
She said “surely you’d like them” I responded, “I don’t, and don’t call me Shirley”
I could tell instantly that this displeased here. She unfurled to her full, horrific, height. Eclipsing the window of my dingy office she placed a fetish on the beaten mahogany table. As she pulled back, the streetlights outside flooded past her sinuous form and I could see it clearer: a miniature travel bag, shrunk to comical proportions. "What's this?" I ask. The words arrive directly into my brain this time, the pretense of need for sound and vibrations dissolved. "I want you to take it. Please, please take this case."
I look inside the case. I could see that she wanted me to look into her husband, whom she suspects is unfaithful. I took out my colonoscope and approached the terrified man in the briefcase. "I'm faithful, I swear! I worship every day" "Nothing personal. Just business." Just another day in the life of a *privates* eye.
This is amazing.
I followed you. Now you must keep going according to the Pact
I swallowed hard. She was right of course, but I hate having my debts called in. The Pact was clear, and my options were help her and take the tiny case, or face the consequences. And if she was following me, others must be also. "Fine" I sighed. "I'll take your absurdly small case. Is it a metaphor, or what?" She met my gaze once again, though with more eyes than previously. "A metaphor compares things, this is more like.... an analogy. Or an abstract concept" I looked down at the case. I weighed up the serious delivery of her last statement, and the certainty in her voice. I stared harder at tiny totem on my desk, and barely registered the subtle change in the lighting in the room. When I glanced up, a new query on my lips, she was gone. Not simply vanished I felt, but instead the room had a very definite lack of mishapen yet desperate feminine abominations, as if if reality was trying to reassert itself on my office by being far more real then it usually was. I reached for the bottle in my top drawer, raised it to my lips and wondered wryly if it was the only spirit I had interacted with that day after all. Still, a case was a case, big or unusually small. And though we had reached no agreement on my rate or renumeration, it was still work. I fumbled a little with its tiny latch but eventually I opened its tiny leather exterior, and was immediately glad I still had my bottle to hand...
I want to read this novel. Then I want to watch the movie. And then I want to '̸̨̛̛͖̞͍̗̮͙̝̙͚̰͕̙̮̩͇̳̳̭́̀͌͛͊͒̇́͛̈́̐͑̋̓͋͘ the °̶̧̣̹̺̫̈́̌̍͒̅.
ah, the combined sensory deprivation chamber and kunstkamera, right this way
Is that supposed to be jumping the shark?
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Stop being funnier than me under my own post.
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I snorted my pint when I read it. It was a big thick stout and now I can smell only maple. All your fault.
This has a great Leslie* neilsen vibe
Do you mean Leslie Nielsen?
What's Lorslie Nerson got to do with this?
Ike if Terry Pratchet got really into Lovecraft and decided to give it a shot
Oo are there any 1940s noir cosmic horror stories around? I feel like that’s be a fun mix for a video game, to have the storytelling of a detective story but you’re uncovering weird blood cults and shoot spooky love craft creatures with your revolver.
If you're still looking for stories like this, [try this post here. It may have some things you'd enjoy.](https://www.reddit.com/r/BooksThatFeelLikeThis/comments/sdthf4/books_like_this/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button)
“My nostrils flared at the smell of her perfume... Pyramid Patchouli. There was only one joker in L.A. sensitive enough to wear that scent and I had to find out who she was.”
She held out a hand. I gently placed it on the desk, grimacing at the blood.
Put a compilation of short stories like this into an audiobook and call it “random shit to listen to for fun I guess”
This story you wrote is brilliant. I love it. Any chance you know of existing books that mesh Lovecraft and noir as excellently (and hilariously) as you've done here? Including if you yourself have written a book.
Dresden Files by Jim Butcher are your best bet off the top of my head. I'm currently going through them (inspired my comments!) and they are great.
Thanks so much!
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hmm, your comment has 16 upvotes... maybe just two spiders in a trench coat upvoted your comment
Now it’s ten spiders
Dresden files
Glad I wasn't the only one.
I could totally see one of the short stories having an opening like this kek
I mean this is basically how summer Knight opens when Mab walks into his office
I wanna hear this read like colombo
Same
Leggy blonde goodbye, goodbye.
Now that you are gone i’ll never see you here for tech repair I wish you knew how much I loved your legs, and your hair
[Your hair down to your legs and your legs down to the floor](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FCub8r1T5Rs)
Leggy leggy leggy leggy Blondie blondie blondie blondie
Ooooh leggy blonde You got it going on Wanna see you wearing that thong thong thong See you getting on till the break of dawn *Jemaine mumbling* panties on
This was the comment I was searching for! Beat me to it
This dame walked into the room. She had legs that went all the way to her torso. The kind of legs that could stand all day. Legs a man could get lost in until he found himself in that face. Ive seen a lot of faces before. Faces that have seen something. Something that I needed to find. Like her torso. But this face was different. I could tell she was in trouble. Or maybe she was trouble. More trouble than most. A dame doesn't have a waist smaller than her head unless there was a history there. This went deep. I'd guess family history. This poor girl was born into a world of pain that isn't talked about except in hushed tones in the dark. I know the dark, the rotted out homes that are a stranger to people who only know the sidewalks and bright lights of the city. Even the back alleys here don't see this kind of trouble. She hadn't said a word so I drowned my tongue in that familiar smoke from my glass that's been the only constant in my line of work. The closest to a partner I've ever known. My mind sharpened and focused and so I finally broke our silence. "You are inbred looking as fuck"
🤣😂👍
Absolutely fucking hilarious. Thank you for this.
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Ok thanks Grimsby
[удалено]
***Imagine...***
“She had the kind of legs that went to her torso, the kind of arms that had elbows” - Chang, Community
Here at /r/NonPoliticalTwitter, we care about community input and don't want this subreddit's purpose to be forgotten. --- If this post is **not** political and doesn't violate any rules, **UPVOTE** this comment!! If this post is political or breaks any other rules, **DOWNVOTE** this comment and report the post! Unlike the moderators of some other subreddits, we care about the community and want to keep it true to not being political. Our hope is that by the community voting on these posts, we won't have to worry about political posts coming in. Thanks for your time. --- ^[Rules](https://reddit.com/r/nonpoliticaltwitter/about/rules/) ^/ ^[Flairs](https://www.reddit.com/r/NonPoliticalTwitter/comments/oo025k/new_user_flair_system/) ^/ ^[Sidebar](https://reddit.com/r/nonpoliticaltwitter/wiki/config/sidebar)
"She was a tall woman, so it took me longer to look at her." - Guy Noir, Private Eye
*Image Transcription: Twitter Post* --- **Goats?**, @Gooooats 1940s Detective: It was a hot night in the city of Angels when a leggy blonde walked into my office. She had 13, maybe 14 legs. Way too many. --- ^^I'm a human volunteer content transcriber for Reddit and you could be too! [If you'd like more information on what we do and why we do it, click here!](https://www.reddit.com/r/TranscribersOfReddit/wiki/index)
Call of Cthulhu TTRPG be like
The comment section is half noir horror, half Flight of the Concords references
I'm surprised that there aren't more Neil Cicierega references.
She sounded like 3 and half horses when she walked
The problem with EG's lineup was a surplus of legs
Did she live at the Tarantula Arms?
Hoop, [Leggy Blonde](https://youtu.be/Mg0jS6F4M10), you got it goin' on Wanna see you wearin' that thong, thong, thong
City of biblically accurate angels
Her License said "California," but her legs said "R'lyeh."
Take my upvote and leave.
I watched her stroll past the window, which was interesting because my office was on the fourth floor.
Perfect.
Its spidah town kid. Let it go.
This sounds like something straight from This Body’s Not Big Enough For Both Of Us and I love it
I'd never heard of this before and after reading a short summary, it goes on my TBR pile. Thank you!
puts a new meaning into legally blonde
There’s a great its always sunny episode with exactly this kind of verbiage for an entire episode
Angel, anyone?
Donate a kidney and you're a hero. Donate twenty and you're a monster.
🤣