Every Wednesday from now until the end of the world, or the blog, I’m going to post a random bit of writing: a rhyme, something from an old folder or a work in progress, or if all else fails whatever random thing I scribbled down during the free-write warm up of my Tuesday Night Writers Club.
‘Tis the season of either dewy-eyed generosity or blind, filthy greed, depending on your level of cynicism (and, if you’re mired in the past, maybe there’s a minor religious aspect to it too).
So here’s my gift to you: first in a series of five drabbles – 100 word “stories” – which in this case will add up to so much more…
Just tell me where Jones is,” I say, “and you can go home as far as I’m concerned.”
“That’s Mr. Mime to you,” growls Left Goon. I shake my head. Give a crook face-paint, he’ll play games.
Right Goon giggles. “He’s behind one of these doors.”
Sigh. “Right, and one of you always tells the truth.” They nod, grinning.
I’m beyond tired of this nonsense. I pull my piece, open fire.
Both die slumped up against the wall. Weird. In my experience, with two guys and two doors, at least one of them always lies.