Saturday, April 23, 2016

The Greer Agency



The Greer Agency is a series of 15 gritty detective stories. The reader follows the life of private detective Mike Greer, the only P.I. in the Altoona, PA phone book. It's tough to make a living in a decaying old railroad town, but with the help of an anonymous benefactor, Greer lands some interesting cases-cases that he solves with guts, determination and street smarts. As the stories progress, so does his budding romance with Susan, the waitress at the coffee shop which serves as Greer’s base of operations. Eventually, the thick headed Greer realizes they are right for each other.
Readers will find Mike Greer an accessible everyman with luck, pluck, smarts and a host of interesting friends. He finds his way into and out of problems some small, some life threatening. Greer narrates the stories in a refreshing and original voice reminiscent of the great noir writers of the past. Each story has its own plot and can stand on its own making the book an easy read for busy commuters. As the book progresses, however, the mysteries pile up and the plots get more complex until the explosive last story that will leave the reader breathless.


You can purchase a printed copy here on Amazon or here from the printer. NOW available as an ebook for Kindle readers.

Friday, April 22, 2016

A Cold Beer In Hell

A Cold Beer In Hell
© Harris Tobias 2013

There’s a story they tell in Killkenny
A story I think you should hear
It involves a local fellow named Murphy
A wager, a contest, and beer

One day down at Paddy’s a stranger came in
Old Murphy was already there
Murph said hello to the stranger
And offered to buy him a beer

You know who I am asked the stranger
I’m the devil and I’ve come here for you
Drink up because where you’re going
There ain’t gonna be any brew

Now if there’s one thing we know about Murphy,
Was that the man lived to drink beer
And he’d taken the devil’s full measure
And knew he had nothing to fear

Old Murphy turned to the devil
He said I bet I could drink more than you
The devil said son, you’ve picked the wrong man
I’m the fella that invented the brew

But Murphy just laughed and ordered a draft
And agreed that that probably was so
I suppose when I’m dead old Murphy said
There’s no drinking where I’m gonna go

That’s true said the devil there isn’t no beer
Not where you’re gonna go
We ain’t got no pubs just demons and grubs
It’s all fire and pain down below

No one had ever seen Murphy
Without a mug in his fist
If there was only one thing that he lived for
Drinking was top of the list

Tell you what said Murph to the devil
As he hoisted a beer to his lips
Let us keep score and whoever drinks more
Has to grant the winner one wish

It’s a deal said the devil and held out his claw
Pour a pint for me and my mate
Paddy pulled on the lever
Then chalked a one on his slate

Now Murphy was known in the village
As a man who enjoyed drinking beer
And if somebody else was abuyin’
You can bet that old Murphy was there

A few hours later the tavern was packed
Every man woman and child in town
Murph and the devil were tied neck and neck
Each man was tossing them down

By evening it looked like Murphy was whipped
Paddy had chalked forty five
Murphy’s hand shook as he picked up his glass
No one thought that Murph would survive

When the folk began cheering and calling his name
Old Murphy seemed to revive
He tossed down the next two pints in a row
Now the devil had fear in his eyes

The devil hung on for couple a more rounds
Then he starting to wobble and sway
Then he slipped from his stool and looked like a fool
Old Murphy had carried the day

Great jubilation, people danced in the street
Old Murphy had done them all proud
The devil was faced with discrace and defeat
Everyone cheered long and loud

Well, said the devil, you won fair and square
And I guess I owe you a wish
So what’ll it be money or fame
That’s usually top of the list

Old Murphy just laughed and shook his grey head
And said this’ll probably sound queer
But the one thing I wish for the one thing I want
Is for hell to begin serving beer

So listen to me all you sinners
In a world filled with liars and cranks
In hell when they hand you a cold one

It’s Murph who deserves all the thanks