"Dicky Dicky don't do it Dicky, I gave up

"Dicky Dicky don't do it Dicky, I gave up everything, everything for you Dicky, you can't leave me Dicky!" She was just a dame to Dicky Noir, Private Eye. He adjusted his fedora

& left, slamming the door behind him. Dicky Noir, PI was to Existentialism what Einstein was to complicated sums. He climbed into his dusty Buick and peeled out into the traffic

leaving the reader to ponder the literary similitudes his exhaust spewed onto the gritty wharf. "If walruses are to rhinocerus as W bosons are to pi mesons" mused Dicky Noir, "then

kiss the jackal." The reader blinked. The reader thought, "Did Dicky Noir just say, 'kiss the jackal?'" The reader looked over the book at the fat woman eating a bowl of chili.

The reader didn't want to question Dicky Noir, so he slowly leaned in to give the fat Chili woman a kiss. But the fat woman turned away, and the reader dropped his book and fell

on the ground. "Why are you laying on the ground?" growled Dicky Noir. "You need to respect my authority, son!" Dicky grabbed the fat woman. "Kiss her!" The reader stood up and

walked straight out of the story, leaving Dicky Noir and the fat woman all alone on the page. Their eyes met, and exchanged fake phone numbers, but they were never to cross again.

This was much to Dicky Noir's and the fat woman's mutual relief. And yet they felt an obligation to impress each other, Dicky exaggerating his size, and the fat woman hiding hers.

A pity, for when time came to consummate matters, the gap proved unbreachable: "We must part ways!" sang out Dicky Noir, his navel balanced precariously atop the fat woman's belly.

"No", she cried. "I want, I need-- I WILL have my consummation!" Clearly having anticipated this possibility, a contraption descended from the ceiling & she got her consummation.