Haven’t posted a one word in awhile. Here’s a couple.
The red dot on my chest, dancing around like a less comforting type of fairie sprite, crawled slowly up the front of my sweater until its red glare flashed in my eyes. I squinted into the dimly lit space, remembering again why I always hated parking garages.
Bad things always happen in parking garages.
“We call ones like that a cracker.”
“Why’s that?”
“They’re a particular breed of imp — a real gastronomic fondness for hard-shelled bugs of all sorts. Some folks call them renfrews.”
I felt, more than heard, the hammer click back. The sound and the vibration carried well through the barrel pressed to my temple. I tried to keep my face calm; I knew he didn’t like histrionics and things didn’t really look that bad.
“Let’s talk about my sister and the book you lent her,” his voice barely a whisper next to my ear.
Then again, things could get worse.
“…and this is the way the world goes… not with a bang, but a whimper.”
“Shut up.”
“You’re just bitter because Frexymedes decided to take the plunge and you didn’t.”
“You TOLD me not to.”
“And this one time you listened? No, this one’s on you, brother demon.”