A carpet installer decides to take a cigarette break after completing
the installation in the first of several rooms he has to do. Finding them
missing from his pocket he begins searching, only to notice a small lump in
his recently completed carpet-installation. Not wanting to pull up all that
work for a lousy pack of cigarettes he simply walks over and pounds the lump
flat. Foregoing the break, he continues on to the other rooms to be carpeted.
At the end of the day, while loading his tools into his truck, two
events occur almost simultaneously: he spies his pack of cigarettes on the
dashboard of the truck, and the lady of the house summons him imperiously:
"Have you seen my parakeet?"
Yeah, that's me, Tracer Bullet. I've got eight slugs in me. One's lead,
the rest bourbon. The drink packs a wallop, and I pack a revolver. I'm
a private eye.