Dear Miss Snark,
I was so inspired by your last short story contest and it's introduction of the latest genre, Snark Noir, that I've considered beginning a serial. What agents represent Snark Noir, by the way? (Miss Snark does, of course!)
Here's my first installment
It was five to seven on a Monday night. Killer Yapp was putting the query pile through the shredder and I had taken the last swill from my gin pail an hour before. I was down and out; my dogs were barking from dancing on the heads of bald vice-presidents, and I had just flicked a red stiletto off of my left foot when he walked through my door.
Normally I would have sliced his head off with a heavy stock, glossy form rejection card sent flying quicker than you could say “Bat Segundo,” but something about him made me pause. I hesitated with my hand under my desk and my finger on the rejection card dispenser, and casually reached to pull the stiletto back onto my foot. The light of the neon “wtf” sign outside my window traced his Clooneyesque features, and he pulled an envelope out of his jacket.
“Please,” he said, “you’ve gotta help me. I’m sitting on the biggest thing since The DaVinci Code, and I have no where to turn.”
“Write a query.” I said with deliberate snark. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t send you straight to Rabbitania.”
The flash of a dimple caught me off-guard, and I was unsure for the first time in my life. My clue stick rolled furtively away from my heel…
(to be continued…)
Well, Miss Snark was traversing the aisles of the local BN just last week (her copy of Bleak House was sucked up into the ozone!) and came upon a large display from Akashic Books: Brooklyn Noir,
It was enough to make Miss Snark reach for her fedora and unfiltered Camel, and her own well watched DVD of The Wire.
Who knows.. Snark Noir will be The Next Big Thing.
Maybe we can get Mr. Clooney to edit!