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Parrish Baker's avatar

The fat man’s story taught me how far a slug could take you. From my knuckles? Back of the alley. Bottom of a bottle? To the county lockup. From the barrel of my friends Smith and Wesson? Down to the county morgue…

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Scott MacLeod's avatar

The city was damp as the inside of a tomato. A rotten one. Misty as a rude sneeze. Soon it would awaken for another breakfast of lonely pain. As rainwater pooled on the P.I.’s soggy snap-brim all he could think was, “Would an umbrella be so fatal to my image?”

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