Dasey Nation

[xscarsxofxreminence]

TITLE: Shotgun Snowball

SUMMARY: Casey McDonald isn't your average crime fighting bounty hunter. She gets into cat fights with impersonators, runs over animals, and hides a gun in her piggy bank. Casey and Patsy, her two hundred something pound body guard, always seem to get into most of trouble. Which on Derek's part, is total agony. "Who IS going to fill out ALL this paperwork!" And now, when big-shot banker Wilmer Clint Dickenson goes missing after not showing up for his court date, it's up to Patsy and Casey to slove the case!

RATING: PG-13 For explicit language, and mentions of sex.

A/N: I got the idea after reading one of Janet Evanovich's novels.


PREVIEW:
IT WAS FEBUARY IN TORONTO and the sky was a bland gray. Casey sneezed-a couple of lose bougers flew out-and rubbed her nose with her scarf.

“Ewyuuew, that’s really gross.” Patsy pointed out. Casey shrugged and walked up to the next doorstep. She pulled on her jacket tighter.

“Ya’know we really shouldn’t be treated this way. Derek should be able to get off his skinny ass and haul off these fucking psychos himself. I’m sick of doing all the dirty work around here.” Patsy huffed and crossed her arms.

Casey snorted and knocked on the door anyways. “If Derek came out here and did ANTHING by himself, we’d be doing more than just investigating.” She knocked on the door again and Patsy scoffed. “Fuck him,” She flipped her hair back making the curls bounce.

The door opened and Casey wished she never knocked on it. Ever. Behind it was the most horrid looking thing she’s ever seen since the re-make of Bewitched.

The woman was about two to three hundred pounds, had red frizzy hair and a robe the size of Mount Vesuvius. She had about seven cats at her feet and reeked of old cat nip. With a baby in one hand and a cigarette in the other she answered, “What?”

Patsy nudged Casey in the stomach with her elbow, “Uh, ahem, well uh, you see were looking for a, “She fumbled through her pocket for the receipt she jotted the FTA’s name on.

“Were looking for a Wilmer Clint Dickenson.” Pasty giggled and Casey glared at her. “Dick?” The woman flicked her cigarette, letting the ashes fall to the stained cement step. “What about ‘im?” Patsy stared at the women’s hand. “Were looking for him, he skipped court yesterday, and we need him there. For ya’know, law shit.”

Yeah, thats it, hehe. Maybe I'll write more?

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