The night is dark and the lights are out. I lock the door to the office and make my way through the dark hallway.

This is it.  The inaugural post.  I am currently standing by my kitchen counter accompanied by a large bowl of mashed potatoes and a dirty spoon.  The door opens and a man walks in, trenchcoat wet from the pouring rain.  In a well-timed flash of lightning I see his face.  It is unfamiliar.  He walks up to me and takes the spoon, digging into the potatoes.

"How much does it cost to find a group of lost carrier pigeons?" he asks through a mouthful of food.

I reach down and grab a half-empty bottle of gin from near my feet.  It was going to be a long night.

*****

But I digress.  If only my entire life was narrated like a cheap noir film.  Like Guy Noir on the Prarie Home Companion.  That would be nice.  It's not, but I can pretend like it is on here.

My mother, for some crazy reason, wants my entire family to write a blog.  Not her, of course; the rest of us should do it.  So I'm writing mine as if my life really were a noir film.  It will probably involve my college life as well, since that takes up most of my time, or reminiscences about my brother and I doing some ridiculous thing or other.

This should be exciting.