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Sometimes I feel like a cat. Slowly stalking my prey, ready to catch the rat within the jaws of a jail cell. Strictly, though I’m a dog person, I have about four of them. I actually hate cats, I think there mean little creatures and their out to destroy the world as we know it.
Anyways, my name’s Clyde Faurie, I have dark, almost black eyes and dark brown hair. I’ve been a detective for nine years , and I have to say I have never been as boggled as I am now staring down at the burn mark on my grey carpet. It must have been a foot across both ways.
Ty my fourteen old nephew curled up on the couch and said,
“ I think it adds personality.”
I just looked at him. Ty looked like something that needed to be photo hopped into life. He has expressive emerald green eyes, soft lips, elegant ashen eyebrows and an almost feminine face, but something tipped if off as make, maybe the shorter than average blonde hair. I told him,
“ Bug, this is not the kind of personality you want in a room.”
He smiled at me. He was in his pajama clothes and I was wearing my puppy dog