Word Count: 250 Max
Genre: Rant
Character: Dealer
Object: Shovel
Placed: 6 wins - 4 losses (Honorable Mention)
“Imagine!” I said, flicking the head of the shovel, hoping to make a bell-like ring. Instead, it made a dull thud that hurt my middle finger. I felt lucky I’d popped the beta blockers I got from a guy I sold cocaine to.
“You open your trunk and someone sees this bad boy. Could be a date, could be a buddy you are taking to the airport. Who knows? But either way, who keeps a shovel in the trunk of their car? Mysterious people, that’s who! Those are the kind of men women want and guys respect.”
I wasn’t convincing them.
“You,” I said, pointing to the bald one. “You look like a man who loves to take risks. I bet you have a cool nickname like Bullseye or Ace.”
He shrugged. Just fucking shrugged.
“Well, I bet it’s Ace. A title of respect and the number one person at your job. What’s the most renowned ace in a deck of cards?”
Pausing for dramatic effect got the bald one to look at the one with hair.
“Ace of spades?”
“That’s fucking right it is! A shovel commands more respect than hearts, clubs, or even the riches of diamonds! A well-made shovel is a mantelpiece, especially for a man of your profession. It’s wha–”
The crack of Bald’s gun going off was the second-to-last thing I heard before falling into the grave I dug.
“Stop making them try to sell you the fucking shovel,” Hair said.