Eyes darting from the restaurant’s kitchen to the exit, Hobart is poised to leave before the server comes back. Timing is essential. So is nickel and diming and penny pinching. He earned the nickname, El Cheapo, for suckering his friends to pay for him until they wised up and dwindled to zero. No loss for him, as he saved time and energy by not having to scour for birthday and holiday gifts through lost and found bins in various places. Right now his goal is to dash out unnoticed. He considers changing his nickname to Dodger. It sounds more adventurous.
Sheila shucks corn in her shack, stewing over a schnauzer that chewed up her Scottish scarf. Feeling skittish, she chucks the last husk into the bucket and goes outside to tend to her Shetland pony. After brushing down her sheltie, she heads to Sean’s Shed, where she’s taken a shine for the shopkeeper. She wants to invite Sean to lunch. As she faces him, she’s overcome with shyness. Shrugging off the shudder in her shoulders, succeeding only in worsening the shaking of her voice, she bleats, “Would you like some sheep butt? Wait . . . what? I . . . sheesh . . . I mean shish kebab?”
Greywood ponders when it’ll become driftwood.
6-word story version:
The Toad croaked his last ribbit.
50-word story version:
Called the “Toad” for resembling the amphibian, Todd tends to toady to everyone. Immune to his fawning ways, Todd’s enemy tricks him into eating a toadstool disguised as a truffle served with succulent ribs. Always aiming to please, Todd ate everything on the plate. The Toad croaked his last ribbit.
She inhales, deeply. Then coughs. A lot. Her eyes almost pop out. Slowly, she feels the effects. She inhales again, knowing another bout of coughing is inevitable. But the sweet pain shooting through her lungs is worth it for she’s sensing herself relaxing. She relishes the moment; she doesn’t have much time left. Her insides start to rebel, while from the outside her body becomes more still. What a sensation. So, this is death by smog.
Babe, my ganja is your ganja.
I’m coming for you next, virgins!
©2015 Karina Pinella
She sits on his white chair, so eager to please. She hangs on to his every word, forgetting the time, until he says he’s well read. Her brain registers. Oh, no! Today is her first day of a new cycle and that means every hour she has to change. She gets up, but too late. As she glances down, she sees red.
Image from Pixabay/Gerd Altmann
Act 1: The Interrogation
Act 2: The Confession
Act 3: The Execution