Posts Tagged ‘Hawaiian shirts’

Chetspeak on Sunday


February 8th, 2015 Posted 8:03 am

After a while, I grew aware that the Hawaiian shirt guy had moved next to Bernie and struck up a conversation, at first about Hawaiian shirts, then about something else.

“What I run,” he was saying, “is what you might call a hedge fund for the little guy.”

“Little guy?” said Bernie.

“Not little in terms of intelligence or ability,” the Hawaiian shirt man added quickly. “But for one reason or another, men of distinction who don’t happen to be Wall Street insiders. I’ve had some nice play in commodities lately. You’re familiar with the basics of tin futures?”

Bernie motioned for another drink, overturning the salt and pepper. “Can’t be that complicated,” he said.

“Exactly,” replied the Hawaiian shirt man. And to the bartender when Bernie’s drink came: “I’ll get that.”



Chetspeak on Sunday


October 19th, 2014 Posted 8:30 am

Is there such a thing as being too brilliant? That’s the story of the Hawaiian pants. Bernie’s a big fan of Hawaiian shirts, the one he was wearing at the moment – with a pattern of hula-dancing mules – not one of my favorites. And this was in the early days with Bernie, before I’d even met a mule, namely Rummy, about whom more some other time, or never. Where I’m going with this is … is … right! The Hawaiian pants! One night, after a bourbon or two – or maybe more, but I don’t go past two, the perfect number to my way of thinking – Bernie suddenly slammed his hand down on the table real hard and said, “Hawaiian pants! We’re rich!” At which point I’d taken off, running all over the house, darting into and out of every room, meaning the kitchen, Bernie’s bedroom, Charlie’s bedroom, the office, the front hall, the living room, not necessarily in that order – or any order! Who needs order? Especially when Bernie’s on top of the world. If Bernie’s on top of the world, I’m on top of the world. And when he’s not I still am! Or close. So round and round and round I flew, zigging and zagging, claws digging in deep, leaning into the turns so sharply that I almost –


– from TAIL OF VENGEANCE, the most recent C&B e-short story (you don’t need a Kindle to read it – there are many ways).

No uploading yet to the Friends gallery.


Plunderers Roll Up Their Sleeves?


December 1st, 2010 Posted 8:59 am

“Might be a good idea to get back to the Astrid case,” Spence says.

“You think?” says Admin.

Uh-oh. Those dudes. They tend to get – what’s the word? – fractious? shirty? dyspeptic? I don’t know any of those words, although I know what a shirt is, having gnawed on several in the laundry pile. Also there are Bernie’s Hawaiian shirts. He looks so good in them! The other day Suzie gave him a shirt that wasn’t Hawaiian but he hasn’t worn it yet. In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s lost.

“But with the site revamp and all,” Spence says, “maybe there are some newbies. We should give the readership a sort of synopsis of events so far. Like – Colonel Bob hired C&B to etc. etc. and then they went to etc. and etc. happened and after that etc. etc. which brings us to etc.”

Admin gives him a long look. “Sounds to me like a job for the Plunderers.”

Spence smiles and gives Admin a fist bump. All of a sudden they’re getting along. Those dudes!


Clubbing (4)


July 19th, 2010 Posted 9:14 am

“I’m not afraid of no damn dogs,” the bouncer said.

“Smart,” said Bernie.

“And I’m not afraid of a loser like you, neither,” the bouncer said.

Loser? Bernie? That made no sense to me. I was sitting – just inside the doorway to Club Utopia – because Bernie had said sit. There’s a way of sitting where you’re actually moving a bit at the same time. That was the kind of sitting I was doing at the moment, closing in on that bouncer. But before I could actually get started on whatever I would have gotten started on, the bouncer grabbed Bernie by the collar, banged open the door with his shoulder and hustled Bernie outside. And Bernie didn’t do a thing about it! I raced outside just before the door swung shut behind me, and what was this? The bouncer was lying in the parking lot, sort of moaning and writhing, and Bernie was standing over him, checking the top button on his shirt, which had come unfastened. This was one of Bernie’s nicest Hawaiian shirts, the one with the trumpets. Have I ever mentioned the Hawaiian pants? Maybe I’ll get into that tomorrow.

Paperback edition of Thereby Hangs A Tail coming Sept. 7.


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