This week’s story weighs in at 127 words, classifying it as Featherweight as opposed to the Mini Flyweight guideline of our guild. But I figured, “Hey, if Perry can get away with it, so can I.”
I’ll be leaving for North Carolina before daylight Thursday morning and won’t return until after 10 pm Friday night. So, I’m apologizing in advance for not replying to your comments or visiting other author’s blogs in a timely manner, but will do my best to catch up over the next twelve weeks.
If you are new to Friday Flash Fiction, the bouncer responsible for maintaining order in this establishment is Bella “Bone Crusher” Wisoff-Fields. To learn how to participate in this weekly exercise in madness, head over to her blog for instructions. After which, scroll down to the blue In links critter and follow the links to other author’s blogs.
“Ma’am, I’m going to have to cut you off.”
“Whaddya mean? I just got here.”
“Well, I’m sure it seems that way. Time really flies when you’re having fun.”
“Who said I was having fun? There’s more life at the county morgue than in this dump.”
“Now, now . . . let’s not get testy and resort to name calling. You can stay until you sober up—as long as you behave yourself.”
“Sober up? I haven’t ordered yet.”
“Ma’am, you were fuzzy-headed the moment you walked in. Now the whole room is blurry and starting to spin. You’re clearly intoxicated.”
“Who is this guy?” she asked the waitress.
“That’s Joe. He always stops in for a few shots before work.”
“What does he do?”