How do you write a noir line? what is the formula? My moronic brain likes noir but cannot participate in the fun threads
How do you write a noir line? what is the formula? My retarded brain likes noir but cannot participate in the fun threads
How do you write a noir line? what is the formula? My moronic brain likes noir but cannot participate in the fun threads
When she walked by my window I knew she had the longest set of walking sticks in town seeing as my office is on the 2nd floor.
are these lines just puns?
Seems you also don't know what a pun is. Frickin moron
>watches noir but can't come up with a simple line of his own
>doesn't even know what a pun is
The lights were on, some schmuck was certainly home, but it was immediately obvious the owner of this place wasn't the type to let his hamster run free in the wheel. This hamster hadn't stretched its legs in quite some time.
Easiest way is to just immerse yourself in source material. Read short stories written by Raymond Chandler.
For more technical answers, you probably want to include a setup and payoff. Often times using metaphor or simile as well as the occasional allusion to a well known idiomatic expression or phrase.
>I had always heard that Time waits for no man, but right now, as I was staring into her sea-green eyes for what felt like eternity, I figured that if even he couldn't resist her charms, what hope did I have?
Some shit like that.
>tfw throw away line better than anything I write
fug
Run-on sentence
"What was the formula?" he asked.
I didn't have the formula. Even if I did, I sure as sunday wasn't tellin' this guy.
I shrugged my shoulders and stepped out into the rain.
no no this is just the aesthetic, or maybe it's just the dialect. It's not representative of the wit and double entendre. Great Noir lines are metaphor, similie, they're flush with additional interpretations and word play.
Sorry, chemistry never was my strong suit.
Business major, eh?
That's right, dirty business. Make no mistake about it toots, this city has an ugly side to it you wouldn't want to dip that pretty nose of yours in. I'm sure your boss Frank Malone Capone "Fingers" O'Malley makes you purr like a kitten, but the cats he has around etc etc...
*kisses anon forcefully*
Nah, business was never my suit either. In fact no suit ever fit my right. Still, I was no casual.
Shame, I wouldn't back down from getting a little casual without your suit. Or maybe you're afraid we wouldn't fit eachother either?
"Kek" I replied.
As my laugh turned into terror, I felt on my skin the first drop of rain that could wash away all glimpse of hope:
I also knew nothing about the formula.
As I stood there on that rainy dark night I realised that the "kek" was on me.
But what if there's no formula? What if it's all a ruse? I had to make sure, so I looked in the files of prohibited access:
By God, I was right, I've been chasing rainbows, and what good is a rainbow if it's still raining with no signs of stopping, other than reminding you that you'll never be as naive as the average downtown schmuck.
But I digress, something has to be done, not even if I take it to my own hands.
So just like the plumber, I have to unclog this shit pipe, from the top down.
bump
the germans know
Great until they killed Kurth in extremely awkward action movie style
Then just okay
Honsetly the whole show should have just been a buddy cop thing with Bruch and Kurth
OP is a homosexual see. He licks butts and sucks nuts see. A total gay boy. A bum roggerer. A Nancy if I ever did see one. Why I'd bet a crisp dollar bill he had his hands on a man's sin stick right this moment! Yes indeed, I'd bet the farm on it!
focus more on atmosphere and feelings than plot. i think chandler said that, there's like several unresolved plot points in his books because of that. also everyone was just ripping off chandler so read his books.
>I guess that’s the problem with me Jake, I’m like a fat nun, I get stuck in habits
underrated
This place had more smoke and mirrors than a strip club locker room.
I knew she was trouble the minute she walked in. She was a woman, after all.
And God damn do i hate women
Baby, you got soul but no heart.
No, he's got heart, but no soul
lel
Ooooh bit of a bifflesnart in he? Bet he flogs like a wongledonk in a twopshop
It was nearing the end of the day, and I'd used up every metaphor and simile I had. So I shot the prick and walked home in the rain, the auditory hallucinations of jazz my only company.
The dame had legs that went all the way up to her waist, and on top of that waist was her torso. She also had some fat breasts. I mean real prime milkers, whole milk firehoses. That's when I noticed the unmistakable bulge in her pants, and I knew she was the janitor I'd been searching for. Before she knew what hit her, I already had. Broke her orbital bone and cost her an eye. Completely fricked the arrest. I'm in serious trouble now this is not a metaphor the chief is so far up my ass he can see out of my mouth.
>She was a poem written on a bench. And me? I'm goddamn Ronnie Coleman.
It's a dog eat dog world out there. Lucky for me, I'm a Chinaman.
I was starvin' for a smoke. On the train ride home I saw a couple of decent butts but nothing worth breaking my back over. The Greek at the corner store told me they'd banned blue raspberry cotton candy flavored juul pods as of today, all out of stock. Just my luck. The rusty bell clanged weakly behind me as I stepped out onto Indifference Ave. I heard circus music. "What's one more ride on the carousel", I mused, as I pinched an entire can of Grizzly Wintergreen Long Cut into the left side of my bottom lip. I took off my famous blue raincoat because it wasn't raining. I saw an urchin playing Robbers And Indians in a ditch. "Hey kid, how's about a souvenir". "Frick off". "Good boy". I flipped him a nickel I bought at a gag store for a buck fifty. "Don't spend it all on one chase". The circus music got louder. "Alright alright I'm comin', whatever happened to manners?" I got on all fours and crawled toward the tents and the lights, not a bone to my name.
It's basically just being overly descriptive with some kind of cynical or witty wordplay or twist at the end. Unflattering comparison can be good too.
>A beautiful dame is like a fine rolled cigarette. Small, delicate, porcelain white, soft on the lips and liable to take your breath away. Unfortunately nobody's ever made one that was good for more than 15 minutes.
>It was only natural OP wanted to be fed the formula. Listening to him talk it was clear that this was a man who'd never been given a tit to suck.
Whoa
>Unfortunately nobody's ever made one that was good for more than 15 minutes.
>>A beautiful dame is like a fine rolled cigarette. Small, delicate, porcelain white, soft on the lips and liable to take your breath away. Unfortunately nobody's ever made one that was good for more than 15 minutes.
Fricking kek.
King.
jej
good post
this post does the talk and the walk all at once.
>small
>15 minutes
How do you smoke a small cig for 15 minutes?
Real slow.
Damn bro, do you write?
I'll buy your book.
Got a laugh outta me fella
You live here all alone?
My husband is at work.
Must be a hard working man to afford a place like this.
Must be.
Suppose some kind of criminal were to break in while he was off at work and you were here all by yourself?
I suppose that would be some kind of criminal. *Brandishes assault rifle*
Not bad.
You're not so bad yourself.
read the novels by raymond chandler to get the feel of how people talk in noir and the PI's inner monologue. then throw in a few moronic similies to make it funny, like
>the sky was grey outside, per usual. the rain assaulted my face like an alcoholic angel's piss
You frickin don't. Noir is a genre of the past, it's out. What's in, is schizo writing
>life is cheap in the big city...
>at least that's what THEY want you to think
>I looked at the clock on my desk. 4:15
>those 3 numbers correspond to the address where some guy did something on April 15
>coincidence?
I think you're write. Gonna give this some thought
“You frick young boys, Valdez?”
>sometimes you've just gotta shake the tree and see what falls out
Anon was desperate. More desperate than a man should be if he were to call himself any kind of man. He wanted to know about the formula, the formula for Noir. He had been bored of all the usual threads and now wanted to be one of the big time players in the scene. But his lines stank up the joint, they could make a steer faint from their foulness. I pity the kid, after all we all started low on the ladder, figured I might throw the dog a bone before he pulls his puppy dog eyes and really gets the waterworks going.
"Listen kid, you always got to sound tough. Short sentences are tough."
"Yeah, what else?"
"You gotta use sarcasm and exaggeration"
"Is that all?"
"One last thing, always talk in a first person monologue."
let me tell you a couple of things joe rogan, it was new years eve, i was high off pcp and just got done robbin a gay for his necklace, he was a chinaman, his skin was so soft n yellow joe rogan, he was laid out and the drugs was telling me to go for it. This was around the time aids was ravaging gays and mullies, so i came back to senses real quick. Im walkin away with a necklace and a bit of cash, stopped for a sandwhich at the nearest israeli deli joe rogan, counting the bills, I only came up 40 dollars joe rogan, you shouldve seen my anger, I took the necklace and opened up the locklet and found a picture of the gays chinese daughter, she had her hair in the same style that my little sister use to wear as a kid before I left Cuba, never saw her again. Joe rogan, I shed a tear, the deli didnt even serve me my sub before leaving and finding a bench in the park and remiscning about my past and lost memories, it hurt joe rogan. My new years resolution was to stop fricking with that PCP shit cuz it had me FRICKED UP
>She had eyes the color of black and white film stock, and legs that went all the way from the couch to the minibar, sometimes back again. I'd seen dames like her before, of course, in the pages of magazines and through windows at night. This one was different. No dame with that kinda class would be caught dead walkin' into a dive like this, unless she was fixin' to catch something live. She sauntered over to the booth with all two of those legs, bent over the table and proffered her cigarette in a fancy holder. "Got a light?" her cleavage seemed to ask.
>"Got a light?" her cleavage seemed to ask.
>If Cinemaphile threads were automobiles, this one hadn't just stalled, it was wrapped around a telephone pole and bleeding black oil..
>A mess like that, you sometimes don't know if you need a doctor or a mechanic.. Guess I should have gone to medical school
she needed me like a fish needed a bicycle
She was a ticking time bomb, but I couldn't wait for her to blow me
>Life is like a race. But I am stuck in traffic and I don't even have a goddamn drivers license
red harvest is better than anything Chandler wrote
To write noir you gotta pretend like you're Frank from True Detective season 2. Now it would be a cold day in hell before you're as good as he was, good thing I brought my ice cold b***h of a wife.
>It’s true what they say: Cops and women don’t mix. It’s like eating a spoonful of Drano; sure, it’ll clean you out, but it’ll leave you hollow inside.
> She was all dame, legs that went all the way to the bottom of her torso. The kind of arms that had elbows.
>I needed answers like a fish needs a bicycle: a lot.
>legs legs legs
You gnow how do wisle. Bud ur libs dogeder and bloe 🙂
Acey said 10 percent
>I’m a sucker for long legs. I wanted to shimmy up one of hers like a native boy looking for coconuts.
>the clock struck the hour like a hammer striking the anvil. His time was up. The last period in his confession was like the final goodbye to the night had been. I took the paper he'd been signing his life away on. He was as quiet as a church mouse on Sunday the whole time writing it. Just too bad all I saw was a rat
kino
>she had nipples the size of golf balls, and her soft carpet allowed the best putts. She didn't have 18 holes, but she sure did make each she had count. She could handle the iron stick like a pro caddie, only she was in charge of how and when
Was her last name Spalding?
Most men prefer to play two rounds on a nine-hole course. This broad only had three holes, so six rounds was par.
>I'd been out of the game a while, so after I pulled out my wood I was sunk in 3 strokes.
She had legs that went all the way up to her breasts the size of a bloody tangerine
threads making me feel like having a smoke lads..
>the thread was as addictive as nicotine herself, each new reply another puff on the sweet bitter brown end of the gay, a habit that stains the teeth to match one's gray soul
a toast
to all the creative and funny homies on /teevee/
>She came in to my life through a door
>Walking on legs, the kind with knees on 'em
>Something about her told me she wanted something from me... I think it was the way her mouth moved and the words that came out
>I couldn't resist her, the firm had a no refuse clause and we didn't turn down work
was this from a movie or something? I think i've heard this on "Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid", a Steve Martin movie, parody of the noir/detective genre
>She came in to my life like a 747 hitting two towers. Her passion, unlike jet fuel, burning hot enough to melt the steel columns around my heart. She had intention behind her eyes. Something that told me she knew more than she was letting on. She wasn't buying the story, and like a banker taking out an insurance plan the week before the attack, I was cashing out on my theory
nicely done
Lots of Black folk at club spade this time of year. You see they don't go out when it's cold. White folk have to go out, rain sleet or snow right, we're delivering mail, we're working jobs fricking running this whole country. The Black folk? They've never had to do anything. They've never needed to get up early, to honor a promise, you go out in the cold, so in winter club spade is a mighty fine place. But July the seventh, what would possess a woman like you on July the seventh of all days to be sitting at a bar full of Black folk in a shit hole like club spade dressed like she's trying to burn a hole in their small simian brains
>It was a cold, wet night when trouble walked in on four legs.
>It was the first time a centaur stood in my office and the last time I did LSD.
>She'd brought the weather with her and a puddle grew in my doorway.
>"I'd ask you to take off your shoes," I said, "but I'm guessing you'd say 'neigh'".
>when she walked in that door, I knew fate had played a prank on me
>I thought to ask "would you like to take a seat?", but then I remembered horses sleep standing up, and if that's the case what good is a chair
>her equestrian body was big and strong, and her human features soft and gentle, a wondrous sight much like a renaissance painting, only instead of Michaelangelo authoring you'd get some sick freak with a barn yard
>she pranced her way out the door, and left into the night. Boy what a ride that afternoon had been, reminds me to bet on the horse race
>I knew just from the look of this chump I was more lost than a well-raised virgin in a casting office. His five dollar dungarees had about fifty cents of wear left in them, and what was left of his teeth was worth less.
>The sign over the place seemed to be some kind of joke, the words "Formerly Chuck's" tacked onto it like a torn johnny hanging off a startled man's pecker.
>Whatever it was, I didn't get it.
>The puff of discount cigar hovered over his sweaty bald head like a rare shower. "It's either my way, babe", he blabbered through his remaining yellowed teeth as he walked towards the dame, "or he gets the three-day". He had to assure her that he was the "professional type". He looked across the empty night between the venetians, trying to remember his memorized lines. "These streets need some cleaning," he muttered as the musty smell escaped his over-sized trench coat, hanging over the scantily lit room and the dame, "and I'll do it for free".
wut
It was an off topic thread and you could tell a mile away. Only one bad apple away from a rotten bunch of dickyposters. But the Jannies were nowhere to be seen. Not this early in the morning. No. Dollars for donuts they were out looking to make that same trade. Too bad noone paid em
Anyone got any goo noir-ish desktop wallpaper? /wg/ is useless.
"Pacific" (Colville)
Michael Mann inspo.