today's progress: A Change in Fortunes

“Is that still a thing, even? Honestly, guys, this isn’t really my thing anymore. I’m a detective now,” Aesop met Kubert’s eyes. “Like you.”
Kubert smiled generously.

tonight's progress: oh sir, I ain't call no taxi

Though the beating took no longer than 3 or 4 minutes, he had plenty of time to consider the what it meant when your friends all split when someone bears false witness against you.

today's progress: why be so curious when nobody knows

“Jazzer, drop your axe...” he said, but not anywhere near loud enough to compete with the music.

today's progress: Size Large

Kubert opened the door. Aesop peered inside. 1000 pounds of white meat, uniformed in police gym sweat pants and tank tops, celtic knot tattoos and well-groomed goatees, laying down some of the most solid freestyle funk-jazz this side of Spaceways Inc.

today's progress: underground at the edge of time

“This reminds me of Broad Street North, in Regina,” Aesop said. “Except for the Sktrain.”
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been east of Edmonton.”

today's progress: got to grow down to grow up

His friends were gone, their bikes still laid out on the summer grass like it was just an ordinary night. 

today's progress: the occasional curse

Bus routes used to have names that meant something. Now it was all new age mumbo-jumbo. What was going on at City Hall?

today's progress: the longest bridge over the shortest span of water

Aesop thought about what happened to Hansel and Gretel after they ran out of breadcrumbs, but didn’t say anything.

today's progress: this rig that runs, runs on memory

Aesop had only been in a police car once before. He’d been 15 years-old and he and his gang had been out on their bikes, no one had a car yet, and for whatever reason—a girl—had ended up in a rich part of town.

today's progress: who will answer a brother's call?

“Hey, do you remember when people liked those electronic remixes of classic jazz songs? Y’know, like Moby doing Ella Fitzgerald or Felix Da Housecat doing Nina Simone or some shit?”
Aesop nodded. “The Verve Remixed Series.”
“Right. I knew you’d remember. You were into that?”

today's progress: pretend you're innocent

Kubert piled the contents of Aesop’s drawer on top of the desk: bottle caps from Mexican sodas; a thick stack of bus transfers held together with a rubber band; two worn John D. MacDonald paperbacks (A Tan and Sandy Silence and The Green Ripper), each with a bus transfer sticking out of the top, no more than 25 pages in on either one; a 75g bag of Creamy Dill chips; a flip phone in two pieces; a cartoonish map of downtown Vancouver sponsored by a less-famous hot dog cart; a creased print-out of Charles Willeford’s letter to his nephew on the importance of owning books by Kafka in college; a type-written letter from the pseudonymous mystery novelist K.C. Constantine, still in its original envelope, postmarked two years earlier; an opened bag of Hawkins Cheezies; a plane ticket from YQR to YVR, dated August, 2006; a Moleskine notebook filled with grocery lists and amateurish sketches of Batman, mostly in profile; a veritable wreath of USB cords; the March, 2009 issue of The Walrus; Geist 76, folded open to a George Bowering piece called “Still a Writer”; a pack of eight AA batteries with one removed; a receipt from Nuba; a cheap spiral-bound notebook filled with grocery lists and amateurish sketches of Green Lantern, mostly in flight; a pen and pencil set bearing the logo of a Saskatchewan daily newspaper; take-out menus from a pizza place, a Vietnamese place, and a sushi place; and finally, a dot-matrix printout bearing the seal of the Instituto de Aprendizaje Hijos del Peublo declaring, in Spanish, the completion by Aesop Mosley of Estudios del Investigador Privado, dated January 23rd of this year.
“Whadda ya know?” Kubert said, folded the diploma several times and then tucked it away in that enigmatic inside pocket of his 80s cop show sports coat.

today's progress: expanding and expanding

“I mean, you got a license from the province, right? You’re legit enough.”
“A license?”
“Yeah, you know, the Security Services Registrar? I mean, you wouldn’t be operating a Security Business without a license, that wouldn’t be very bright.”
“Don’t you need clients to operate a business?” Roz, looking up from her computer, where she was live-Tweeting the interview.
Kubert mimed scratching off a point for Roz. “Fair point. You the lawyer?”
“Dance instructor.”
“Makes sense.”

today's progress: bring rusty pliers

He looked like Hunter, from the old TV show Hunter. Gotta be a cop.
“Constable Kubert,” he said, reaching across Aesop’s comic books and crossword puzzles to offer a business card, which Aesop took quickly.

today's progress: run and get your shovel, run and get your pick

Aesop called 9-1-1 from the battered payphone across the street and started walking. What would Lew Archer do? Archer would never find himself in such a position. Archer was barely there. What did Macdonald say about Archer? “If he turned sideways he’d disappear.” Aesop flattened himself against the brick wall. Sucked in his gut. Turned sideways. Still there.

today's progress: don't mess with my toot toot

You don’t want bad shit to happen to people you care about? Become a plumber. Learn to cook. Practice your saxophone in a thunderstorm. Whatever you do, don’t cast off your disappointment of a life-so-far and assume the identity of a vaguely existential private detective.

today's progress: each day is a struggle

“Y’know,” Aesop said to the bored barista. “Those Herzogs on the wall were all taken about 25 blocks to the west of here. You guys should really look into the heritage of the Sunrise neighbourhood. It’s pretty interesting in its own right.”
“You want room for cream?”
“Uh, sure. Thanks.”

today's progress: keep on with the force don't stop til you get enough

“‘Shit tornado’? C’mon, man, I though you used to be a writer.”
“Get off my lawn, Al.”
“That’s better.”

today's progress: can't predict the weather

"There are no anarchists on Facebook. If someone actually did that and then posted it, they’re a goof."

today's progress: a lot of crank air

“You still like it Halle Berry?” Aesop nodded at the paper cup beside his, steaming in the cool overnight air.

“You remembered. I’m touched. Your face, what the hell?”

“How many times I buy you coffee when we worked together?” Aesop shifted back, under and out of the glare of the blue neon in the window behind him.

“Ah, I always figured you just liked getting out of the building, going for a walk.”

“Maybe so. Maybe I figured I owed you.”

“You don’t owe me, Ace. We’re even. We’ve always been even.”

“We’ll see,” Aesop blowing into his cup before taking a sip.