Film Noir

Film Noir

by Kelp

The city is a monochrome.
The darkly sexy femme fatale
Speaks to me in monotone,
Something ‘bout the kind of gal
She used to be before they killed
Her husband who didn’t care
To box no more, he’d had his fill
Of blood and gore; it wasn’t fair
To push him in the ring that night.
Those hoodlums wouldn’t back away
He wasn’t ready for the fight,
He was the victim of foul play.
“We’re all victims of circumstance,”
I tell her flatly sotto voce.
“You play the game; you take your chances.
I’m not gonna give you no bouquet,
But I can try to help you find
Those no-good punks that killed your man
And smacked you ‘round and robbed you blind.
But you gotta trust me, I got a plan.
OK, kid?  You in or out?”
“I’m in,” she says and crosses her legs.
“Tell me what it’s all about.”
“To make an omelet you gotta break eggs,”
I tell her, as I put on my hat.
“Stick with me kid, I’m your only friend.
Let’s go doll, it’s time to scat.”
Now my buddy, Bud, is a real godsend.
He happens to be a private dick.
I know he can help us, for a fee.
He has a girl named Barb Stanwyck
Who likes her whisky with iced tea,
So I bring a bottle and a few loose bags
And we meet them at the local establishment.
They come with some friends, each smoking their fags.
Familiar faces, I greet with astonishment:
It’s Rita Hayworth, Lana Turner and Veronica Lake.
“We’re all in,” they say, “We want to help.
But we’re not doing this for her sake,
Not for her, that ungrateful whelp.”
And they motion to my femme fatale.
Who’s cringing in the corner, with her own lit cig.
“We know this trollop, she ain’t no doll.
She’s trouble, this floozy, and it’s up -- her jig,
She’s cries for her hubby, but she’s a big two-timer.”
Veronica pauses to catch her breath.
“She’s a social climber, and she’s a nickel and dimer.”
“That’s enough,” says Bud, and he gives her the look of death.
Then Barb stands up to give her two cents:
“Let’s just forget the broad for now.”
“I agree,” says Bud, “now you’re talking sense.”
And Lana shouts: “Hey where’s she at anyhow?
Looks like she vanished right into thin air.”
And it was true she was gone, right in front of our eyes.
“Hey come on,” says Lana, “do we really care?”
“I care,” I say. “I love the dame. I don’t believe your lies.”
Bud says: “Look, let’s all split up. She can’t have gone too far.
I have a feeling she’ll lead us right to the thugs.
You gals go on foot, and we’ll take the car.
I got my piece, and I ain’t shootin’ slugs.”
Now Bud’s got a rep as a good gumshoe.
So I tell him: “Awright, I’m with you.”

We cut to a warehouse, on the waterfront.
We’re on the outside, tryin’ to listen in,
The quartet of women with Bud out in front,
I fall behind, and my head starts to spin.
We can hear her voice but we can’t see a thing.
There’s shouting back and forth, then a shot from a gun,
Then another and another; my ears start to ring.
Then there’s silence.  Bud whispers: “Looks like she’s done.”
So we sit and we wait, outside by the gate.
Bud stands close, but the girls are huddled.
They’re planning something: maybe my gal’s fate.
My heart is pounding.  My thoughts are muddled.
“What will you do to her when she comes out?“
”You mean if she comes out,” Bud says, with a sour puss.
“Look,” I say, “Hey, I’m no eagle scout,
But I think this one went by the books.
She had the element of surprise.
I heard three shots fired, no screams from her.
I think she could very well be alive.”
“I know that’s what you’d prefer,
And it could be true,” says Bud, “but forget it.
These girls want blood, that’s what they’re after.
They don’t like her.  You still don’t get it.”
The girls are still talking.  I can hear their laughter.
“Look,” I shout, “I’m just a slow learner,
But I’m pleading with all of you, please don’t hurt her.
Please Barbara Stanwyck, please Lana Turner. Please Rita Hayworth.  Just let me divert her.
I’ll handle everything.  Please Veronica Lake.
And Bud I’m turning to you, my buddy for years,
Can’t you see that I have so much at stake?”
I say, and I sigh, and wipe away a few tears.
“Awright” they all say, “but it’s your funeral.”
And they leave me alone, in the dark, in the rain.
They must have all thought that I was delusional.
But I was just hoping that it wasn’t all in vain.

Then out she comes, with a smoking gun
She throws it down and she starts to run.
I start running too, I am in pursuit.
She breaks her heel, I tear my suit.
I catch her by the arm and twist her around.
I bring her close, but she starts to frown
“Get your hands offa me, you big lug.
Or I’ll plug you too like I plugged those thugs.
How come you never defended my honor?
I thought back there I was a goner.”
“I’m gonna protect you,” I tell her.  “It’s true.
The others have left.  It’s just me and you.
You’re not gonna wind up in a coffin.”
And I could see her face begin to soften.
The rain starts in harder.  She puts her hand on her throat.
“Come on,” I say, “come under my coat.”
“Awright,” she sighs. “I could use a friend.”
And the lights go out, and it’s the end.