Again, I couldn’t decide which story to post, so I used both.
We met at Chicago Pizza. She ordered a slice with chicken and pineapple. Sounded awful, but I took it in stride. Said I hadn’t seen her around. She replied she had to move after being falsely implicated in a murder. Perverse, I said. Then I felt the gun in my back as we stepped outside. (55)
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Some call him The Chicken because of his long neck, skinny legs, and look-at-me stride. Said he came from Chicago. I call him perverse ever since he was implicated in vandalizing the school. The sheriff can’t prove it, but sometimes you know all you need to by how a person looks and where they’re from. (55)
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Okay, you know the drill. Write a story of 50-55 words using the bold words and post it in the comments section. Fingers ready. . .write!
(54 words)
ReplyDeleteShe lived in Chicago. Asked me to come out there and help. She wanted to wrap me up in a perverse game of chicken. Her boyfriend was trying to implicate her in murder. She wanted me to kill him instead. Told me I should take it in stride. I strode right to the police.
Nice one Christopher. Direct and to the point.
DeleteLove it, Christopher. Almost like song lyrics and the cool irony of the last two sentences just knock me out.
DeleteOoh very cool!
Delete(55 WORDS)
ReplyDeleteChicken was the insult she’d used in Chicago. I weathered her abuse without breaking my stride or turning my head. Her proposal was perverse. No way was I gonna be implicated in something like that. Not again. Getting my card marked once was enough for me. I’d lived and learned. Never be so lucky twice.
Learned lessons are the most useful kind, Graham. We all wish we knew that when we were young and dumb and full of . . uh . . . wild blueberry muffins.
DeleteOnce bitten twice shy eh! Nice piece!
DeleteIt was perverse. When the tommy gun began it's own brand of music, the bum danced around in front of the Chicago eatery like a chicken flopping around with his head cut off. I took it in stride. No one wasn't going to implicate me in this hit. I just drove the car.
ReplyDeleteIn stride, hell, buddy. I'd stand on the gas and let the car do the getaway. :)
DeleteMove what are you waiting for! ^_^
DeleteI'm just a chicken shit. Bit off more than I can chew. Chicago hit his stride, won big, but they ain't lettin' me collect. Some perverse fate. I gotta git now ... see ya down in Birmingham ... if I'kin slide outta this here mis-combobbled mess. They're movin' in for the kill.
ReplyDeleteToo much success is just as bad as too little. Biringham sounds lovely in this hot spell. Cool.
DeleteChicken Dance
ReplyDeleteChicago. Summer. It is hot in my invisible chicken suit. The suit is the same yellow as the blouses the whores wear striding the perverse sidewalks. I will drop my death eggs of weaponised ebola there and move on to your suburbs. None of you see me. You never did. You are all implicated. Goodbye.
WOW Aj. I have so many weird and wacky pictures in my heqad after reading that. It's gonna stay with me all day.
DeleteNasty! Somebody call a doctor! ^_^
DeleteAJ, this reads very much like the start of a bizarro serial killer short. The invisible chicken suit is the tipping point; the weaponised Ebola is just icing on the cake.
DeleteWhoa. That is sharp. I agree--sounds bizarro to my ears,
DeleteThanks Christopher and Christopher. I had started in another direction then "invisible chicken suit" popped up in my head and I thought, I'm not quite sure of what bizarro is but maybe that's kinda it.
DeleteThe numbing Chicago wind blew off Lake Michigan, throwing me off my stride. Why had I decided to play chicken with the fuzz--in winter? Just perverse, I guess. The truth was, if I didn’t get this body dumped into the Chicago river soon, I’d be implicated--again--and I’d go down hard this time.
ReplyDeleteBoy. Not enough to be freezing your tinkerbells off but a body dump too? Life just ain't fair. :)
DeleteAnother fine group of niblets, lady and gentlemen. Thanks for sharing. I'm going to start collecting my favorites each week and maybe publish them in an anthology at some point. Anybody mind?
ReplyDeleteNo! No! You can't do this to us! Don't expose us to the light!
DeleteOh, sorry.
Yeah, I'd love it. That's what I meant to say in the first place. Yeah, um...
Sure Jim. You have blanket rights to any of these shorties of mine you want to use.
DeleteThanks, AJ. With the stories running 50-55 words it will take awhile to gather enough to make the project worth doing. :)
DeleteSounds like a cool idea Jim.
DeleteAwesome idea, Jim!
ReplyDeleteGetting into Capone’s Chicago racket had been duck soup. They were a perverse group of characters but my job was to get to the Big Cheese himself. This was no time to be chicken, and if I couldn’t implicate him and take him down, then I guess I’d just have to fill him with daylight.
ReplyDeleteNow there's a mission statement. Scarface was hard to take down. Finally got him on income tax and then the STD that laid him low. Hmm . . . makes me wonder if the mission was to give Big Al the . . . um . . . probably not. :)
DeleteRun hard. That was your first instinct. Who cares if they call you chicken? You already have a two count. Chicago was supposed to be your hideout, not your strikeout. Boo said he had you covered, to take it all in stride. Covered is right--in a gangbanger’s blood. Perverse as you watch, you’re implicated.
ReplyDeleteThe best laid plans run into a doublecross. The plans and the protag get laid to rest. Cool.
ReplyDeleteI'd finally hit my stride, was finally back in Chicago, but all it took was three days to find nowhere left to hide. This is beyond perverse, and I'm worse than implicated, because Tessa is dead, but still smiles beside me while I play chicken one last time with the shrieking blue.
ReplyDeleteChris! Good to see you here, man. You can pack enough irony in a single sentence to light up industrial electromagnets in a six state area. Cool.
ReplyDelete