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Dropping a Dime – Another Short Story.

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Mr. Single Malt Monkey gave me a one line story challenge. I changed one word from his line. I replaced the word mat with coaster. For some reason a mat made me think of a tatami mat and a tea ceremony. The Al that formed in my imagination wouldn’t be staring at dime dropped on the floor at a tea ceremony.

The post “My Name is Inigo Montoya” was still fresh in my mind, so this story is dark and violent. Be warned – if you’re not in the mood for that, put off reading it for another day. I asked Mr. Husband to read it before I posted it because I’m trying out writing how a man would react to a situation. I also wanted to know if he was going to sit me down and say I needed help. He hesitated a bit and I promised to wait a while before writing a story about how to kill your husband.

Dropping a Dime

Al drained his glass and placed it right back in the center of the coaster, never taking his eye off the dime that had been dropped by the door. A low voice in his ear said, “Hello Al, it’s time to pay up.” “Excuse me?” “I warned you.” “Warned me about what and just who the hell are you?” The stranger chuckled and sat his drink down next to Al’s. Al reached out with one finger and slid the drink away from his.

Al, I know you remember our conversation about no such thing as coincidence. “yeah, sort of, so what’s your point?” The stranger stared at him, twirling a dime on the counter. He reached over and clapped Al on the back, hard. Then got up and walked to the jukebox. Al muttered, “What a jerk” and waved his empty glass at the bar tender. He looked down and saw the dime was still spinning. He slammed his hand down to stop it. Continue reading →

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