Mike Hammer

I was a self-admitted misanthrope unwilling to lose or drop a case. I often threw a rope-a-dope just to win; I never lose face. I worked the dark streets for dark, and even darker, clients while the cops walked their beats, shadows showing giants. As far as I was concerned, they were all a bunch of losers. They were bad; they’d get burned. The lot were boozers or bruisers. I had caught a difficult case The man was stabbed and shot. He deserved it; he was debase, but the perp would be caught. The lawyer was my client, he was dirty; the worst he could get. Damn, he was mighty defiant! Still, I didn’t think he did it. He had no motive, but also no alibi. So why were the cops after him? He was a jerk, but had no reason to lie. But for him the outlook was grim. I might have to pummel every john on the streets to get to the truth. It wasn’t unpleasing to use my brawn and I was a hellava good sleuth. I’d search every city block. I’d find the filthy little perp. I’d find the lowlife and knock the truth out of the twisted twerp! 26 August 2022 Start Sleuthing Poetry Contest Sponsored by Natasha L Scragg https://www.rhymezone.com