The unshaven slob shoves my mother aside and slides his Smith & Wesson .38 into my ribs from behind, demanding my wallet.
“How tall are you?” I ask, measuring my enemy without getting a look at him.
“Six-two,” he spits out, “what the hell you need to know that for?”
I ask a second time and he shouts the same answer, belligerent like a coward. I turn and slash him in the gut.
Measure twice, cut once … the mantra’s in my blood – and his now.
I know, I know, I’m groaning too, but I found it irresistible.
If you’re new, April is the A to Z Blogging Challenge. One letter every day except Sundays. Pick your theme. My theme: Six-sentence stories. Hemingway introduced the six-word story. I’m paying him homage with the slightly easier storytelling of six sentences. Come on back tomorrow for “D.” Should be dee-lightful.