My Drum is Quick! Part 2 of Karl Karma, private eye's jazz samurai be-bop love story by Chris Quinlan ... We went into the jazz joint, she took me through to the band room, there was the leader of "The Jazz Discharge Avante-Garde Collective", a gorgeous woman looking out the window, she turned around and pointed two thirty-eights at me, she also had a gun. She had the most beautiful blonde hair on her head too. "The jazz police are here!" she whispered in a purring tone, "They're at the bar disguised in grey goatee beards and slurping red wine, talking loudly through slow ballads, I just can't solo with all this pressure, I'm afraid of playing an out of tune note or something." "Don't worry slinky" I replied nonchalantly "Get your band to play Autumn Leaves in reggae and I'll slip you out the back door while they're writing the review. As the band were taking the song up an octave and leaving it out, I slipped Sweet-cakes out through the back-door, outside was the manager in! his car ..... dead ..... his mobile phone was still next to his ear, I picked it up, he was talking to the city morgue, he must have seen the bullet coming. We jumped in the car and made our getaway, as we turned the corner, a brick came flying through the window, hit honey-buns on the tit and broke four of my fingers. The jazz police were on to us, we needed some quick action, I grabbed the managers mobile-phone, rang Ahmet Rodan, Director of "I can't believe it's not an Arts Grant!" incorporated ...
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