Tag: theft

Fiction: Some Slight Provision

Posted on by bryon

A uniformed officer backed through the door to the detective division. He turned around and everyone could see he was carrying a box.

“Detectives Okuno and Haycock?” he called. “Here’s that little present for you.”

“Presents are supposed to be wrapped, Pinkus,” Haycock said.

“Actually,” Pinkus said, “it’s a lot of presents. How many wallet snatchings are you working in the financial district?”

“Twenty-seven,” Okuno said.

The officer set the box on Haycock’s desk. “Well, here are twenty-seven wallets, so you’re covered.”

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Fiction: Bad Boy

Posted on by bryon

Dirk leaned back on the couch, looking up at the angry woman and the four men she had brought home with her.

She sure knows some losers. Not one of ’em is tough enough to be water boy for the chess team. But he was outnumbered, and the tall, young blond man with the button-down collar and the white-knuckle grip on the baseball bat looked angrier than Beth did. He’s in love with her. Poor kid.

“Something you wanted to tell me, Sweetheart?”

Beth smouldered. “Get the hell out of my apartment and get the hell out of my life.”

“And these gentlemen are the moving company?”

“We are if you’re not out of here in two minutes,” the baseball bat kid growled.

Dirk decided he meant it. The guy had never been in a fight in his life, but anyone that tightly wound wouldn’t stop once he got started. It’d take a shampooer to get all of me out of the carpet.

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Pen to Paper: Potpourri

Posted on by bryon

I know this looks awfully lazy, but there have been a number of interesting things I’ve found in the past couple of weeks that I want to share with you. Thus, a links post. Enjoy.

* The five most stolen books.

* Ambrose Bierce’s Devil’s Dictionary turns 100.

* The New York Times’s Bill Keller says, “Let’s Ban Books, Or at Least Stop Writing Them.”

* Kurt Vonnegut explains drama. I’m guessing he was qualified to do so.

* Everything you need to know about undressing a Victorian woman.

* Interview with Ira Glass. He talks about his career, creativity, and being wrong.

* Steve Pavlina tells us how to make brown rice. It has nothing to do with writing, but it’s foolproof (so sworn because it works for me). As for what he does once the rice is cooked, I have no comment.

Fiction: Politeness

Posted on by bryon

On such a warm, beautiful spring day, Cal didn’t care to be cooped up in his office one minute more than necessary. A vendor provided a couple of hot dogs and a cold drink, and Cal found an empty park bench and made himself at home. He used his left hand for his meal and held his smartphone in his right hand, checking his messages.

As Cal was halfway through his second hot dog, he suddenly found a gun in his face. The young man wielding the gun snatched Cal’s phone and ran off with it, shouting, “Thanks, man!”

With his newly free hand, Cal reached into his jacket. He yanked out his revolver and fired two shots. The thief spilled to the ground, still clutching the phone.

“You’re welcome,” Cal yelled.

Dad was right, he thought. “An armed society is a polite society.”

Fiction: Nickles and Dimes

Posted on by bryon

“There’s your receipt,” Laura said in a bored, friendly way. “Thank you for shopping at MacKenna’s today.”

“You forgot my change,” the customer said.

“Change?”

“Yes, I gave you a $20 bill and the total is $17.22; I should get $2.78 in change.”

“Oh, right.” Laura’s chin began to quiver. “Not again,” she moaned softly. “Um… Look.” She paused and tried to keep from crying. “Look, I’m really sorry, but I can’t give it to you.”

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Fiction: Fair Game

Posted on by bryon

Timmy held perfectly still, trying to ignore the noise around him. He felt the weight of the dart — his final dart — in his hand. He studied his target intently and, almost without volition, let fly. The dart flew the short distance and popped one of the few red balloons.

“Hey! You did it, kid! Good work!” the booth’s worker said. “Name your prize.”

Timmy pointed to a jumbo-sized stuffed bunny — the only purple one — that had pride of place in the balloon booth. The worker smiled as he retrieved it and handed it over. “There you go, kid. Congratulations.”

“Thanks!”

The barker began calling for more players even before Timmy could turn away. “Just had a big winner here! Big winner! You can be next! Step right up! Three darts for a dime!”

Timmy trotted away from the booth, unable to see where he was going for the huge new toy he carried. Heedless of who might be watching he hugged his big rabbit.

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