Afternoon in a Bar
I had a good half dozen story ideas this week, but I didn't have time to, you know, write them, hence the two last-minute, really, really short stories. I feel a tiny bit better now. Except for the part where it's past my bedtime.
Also, it amuses me that such an insanely short story could go so completely not the way I was planning.
165 words or so.
***
Jayne stared into his beer, trying to ignore the eyes peering at him from that grubby little face. He'd tried the intimidating glare, but that had only scared the boy off for a few minutes, then he came creeping back, determined as anything.
"Why not?" the boy asked again.
"I said, ask your pa."
"I said, he ain't got one."
"Too ruttin' bad."
"Please?"
"No."
"You can take the bullets out first."
"My guns ain't toys," Jayne bristled.
"Never said they were."
"Well, then," Jayne said, feeling that the matter had been settled.
"Well, then," the boy parroted, as if he were the one who had won.
"Look, kid, I'll let ya hold my knife for a minute if you promise to stop bugging me."
"Already got a knife," the boy said, showing off a tiny pocketknife with pride.
Jayne considered arguing, vaguely wounded by the comparison, but arguing hadn't been going so very well for him. "Gorram hell," Jayne grumbled, unloading one of his guns.
Also, it amuses me that such an insanely short story could go so completely not the way I was planning.
165 words or so.
***
Jayne stared into his beer, trying to ignore the eyes peering at him from that grubby little face. He'd tried the intimidating glare, but that had only scared the boy off for a few minutes, then he came creeping back, determined as anything.
"Why not?" the boy asked again.
"I said, ask your pa."
"I said, he ain't got one."
"Too ruttin' bad."
"Please?"
"No."
"You can take the bullets out first."
"My guns ain't toys," Jayne bristled.
"Never said they were."
"Well, then," Jayne said, feeling that the matter had been settled.
"Well, then," the boy parroted, as if he were the one who had won.
"Look, kid, I'll let ya hold my knife for a minute if you promise to stop bugging me."
"Already got a knife," the boy said, showing off a tiny pocketknife with pride.
Jayne considered arguing, vaguely wounded by the comparison, but arguing hadn't been going so very well for him. "Gorram hell," Jayne grumbled, unloading one of his guns.