Dialogue/Picture This

“Hey… hey y’… y’that guy. From th’news!”

“…That get me a drink?”

“Buddy it’ll get y’wasted.”

“Oh. Good.”

“H’much d’you ‘member?”

“Depends.”

“I hear you. Single r’blended?”

“Single.”

“Rocks?”

“Straight.”

“Okay so. How much do y’remember?”

“Really want to know?”

“I really wanna know.”

“…”

“I ain’t kiddin’!”

“Everything. I remember everything.”

“Oh, fuck yes. I KNEW it! Sylvie! Get y’ass over here!”

“Goddamnit, I’m busy!”

“Yeah, but dis guy! Dis fuggin guy! Ha!”

“Watch it. Hands.”

“Sorry! Sorry, mister. Got excited. We don’ get many of y’kind here. ‘Choo you say y’name was, again?”

“Lucy. You can call me Lucy.”

About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
This entry was posted in Fiction, Flash and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Go ahead -- say something. Anything.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.