shotgun

WDYS — The Anguish

Fandango9 Comments

“I told him, Benny,” Alex said. “I told him not to open up a liquor store in the city. I told him that liquor stores get robbed all the time. Why didn’t he listen to me? I’m his oldest brother.”

“Mack always went his own way, Alex.” Benny said, “and you know how stubborn he always is.” Benny sighed. “Always was, I mean, always was.”

Alex leaned in and hugged his brother when he started crying again. “I know, I know, Benny. I can’t believe he’s gone, either.”

“I showed him an article that advised retail store owners to give the robbers whatever they asked for and not try to be heroes. That’s when he told me that he bought a shotgun and if anyone tried to rob his store they’d be hauled off to the morgue,” Benny said.

“He was a proud man,” Benny said, “a man who wasn’t afraid to be a hero. But what’s a shotgun going to do against two hopped-up thugs with semiautomatic rifles? And now it’s our brother who is in the morgue.”

The two men once again embraced.

Written for Sadje’s What Do You See prompt. Photo credit: Josue Escoto @ Unsplash.

Friday Fictioneers — Street Parking

FandangoLeave a comment

“Why does Grandpa always put that chair in the street, Momma?” Linda asked.

“He doesn’t have any off-street parking for his car, and that’s a big problem for him in the winter when it snows,” Linda’s mother explained.

“But how does putting a small wooden chair on the street help with that?” Linda asked.

“That way people won’t park their car in that space when Grandpa’s car is not parked there.”

“Can’t someone just pick up the chair and move it and park their own car there?”

Linda smiled. “Seems the shotgun he aims at them discourages that.”

(98 words)

Written for Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ Friday Fictioneers prompt. Photo credit: Dale Rogerson.

Stand Your Ground

Fandango3 Comments

715A117A-49EC-4C13-B505-181C9787996F“I say, old chap, aren’t you overreacting a bit?” Graham asked as Peter shoved his shotgun into Graham’s chest.

“I think not, you scoundrel” Peter responded. “You have invaded my domain, abused the sanctity of my home, and had your way with my darling Beatrice. A man’s home is his castle and you have dared to breach the castle’s keep. I have no choice but to stand my ground.”

“You are an old fool, Peter,” Graham said, swatting away the shotgun. “I didn’t invade your castle, I was invited here by the lady of the manor. She has grown tired of you, bored by you, and has been seeking the thrill of an elicit relationship with a man of adventure such as myself.”

“You are a liar!” Peter exclaimed, lunging at Graham, placing his two hands around Graham’s neck, and squeezing.

“Stop it!” Beatrice screamed as she entered the room. “Let’s sit down and talk about this like civilized people.” She picked up a small bell from the coffee table and shook it. When the housekeeper responded, Beatrice instructed her to fetch some tea for the three of them. Then Beatrice motioned for the two men to sit down on the sofa and she took a chair opposite them. They sat in silence until the housekeeper served the tea.

When the housekeeper left the room, Peter broke the silence. “Beatrice, is it true? Did you invite this cad into our home?”

“Yes, Peter, I did,” Beatrice admitted. “Graham and I have establish a bond and while I will always love you, sweet Peter, there’s no passion, and passion is what I need and passion is what Graham is all about.”

“But my darling Beatrice,” Peter said, “this is our castle and I am the king and you are my queen.”

“Well, old chap,” Graham said, a triumphant smile gracing his face, “it looks like I am the new king of the castle having, ascended to the throne.”

Peter picked up his shotgun and fired two shots point blank at Graham and Beatrice, instantly killing them both. “The king is dead,” Peter said. “Long live the king.”

Written for Sandman Jazz’s Writing Challenge, where the starting point is the picture at the top of this post, and for Paula Light’s Thursday Inspiration, where the theme is “castle” and includes the image below.6C326E12-EBC1-4E46-806D-FA2888A74221

Friday Fictioneers — Rabbit Hunting

Fandango22 Comments

img_1488

“Look at that hillbilly over there,” Percy said.

“You mean the guy standing in the hole he’s digging?” Reggie responded. The two young men got off of their expensive bikes and walked over to the wire fence that separated the field from the road.

“That guy reminds me of Yosemite Sam,” said Percy, laughing. “You know, the one who’s always after Bugs Bunny.”

“Yeah,” said Reggie, chuckling. “He’s probably digging a rabbit hole looking for his dinner.”

Suddenly the guy dropped his shovel, picked up his shotgun, pointed at the two cyclists, and shouted, “Get off my property you varmints.”

(100 words)

Written for this week’s Friday Fictioneers prompt from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Photo credit: Connie Gayer.

Only those who are familiar with Yosemite Sam might appreciate this post.