Sunday, October 19, 2008

Fall Flash Fiction Challenge

Patti Abbott, Gerald So, and Aldo Calgagno have once again thrown down the glove and challenged us to write a flash story. A complete listing of all the stories can be found here Take the time to pop on over and read all the stories, you won't be sorry.

by Sandra Seamans

Can't any of you cops see beyond his damn suit? Bend right over and kiss his ass, why don't you? Hell, the guy's wearing a suit, he must be legit, right? Don't matter where you found him or what he's done, the man's a suit. And being a suit makes him, what? Respectable? You're forgetting that under that five hundred dollar scrap of material is a naked rich prick. A man who can kill with the same crazy hate as a redneck in flannel and jeans. Them suit boys just got more polish and all that slick just makes it easier for them to slide their way out of trouble.

And that slippery suit you just sent home? I know what he did. I was here in the parking lot playing strip and screw with a fancy three-piece of my own. Suits like them are always hanging around here at Black Jacks. Rich men looking to score with a redneck tart or maybe sample a little dark chocolate. Them rich suits like girls who know how to make a man feel good, girls who don’t have ice running through their veins like them tight-ass bitches they’re married to.

I seen that slick suit and my friend, Jilly, come staggering out of the bar just before last call. The two of them were all tongue and hands until he slammed her down on the nearest car hood. Hell, even a street whore don't want to be poked in the pussy where everyone and his neighbor's got a birds-eye view. 'Sides, a well-heeled suit like that could've sprung for a hotel room or at least used the back seat of his car.

The suit, well, he didn't like being told no. He landed a punch flush on her jaw, ripped her panties off and fucked her anyway. She was screaming, but weren't no one around to hear 'cept me and my suit, and that chicken-shit hit the highway when things turned ugly. Married suits preferring not to get caught with their pants down around their ankles when their wives ain't around.

Me? Weren't nothing I could do but call the cops. Weren't no point in both of us getting killed 'cause that fucker went crazy-ass-preacher mean. He was waving that knife through the air like it was the word of God, cursing Jilly for leading him into the hellfire of temptation. Me, I figure he walked into hell all on his own, seeing as how his engine was cooling in Black Jacks parking lot.

"Call no woman respectable til she's dead." Them's the words he kept screaming all the while he was stabbing Jilly. When her body finally quit twitching, he backed away and said, "Now, she's respectable. May God have mercy on her sinner's soul."

Me, I gotta wonder about his taste in respectable, what with poor Jilly dead and spread out like some Hustler centerfold on that car hood. Where's the respect in that? As for sinners, who's the bigger sinner here? Her what offered her body for a little friendly slap and tickle or him what took it, then killed her.

So, Mr. Cop, looking all smug and smart in your cheap suit, are you going to believe that blood splattered, deep-pockets suit? Or you gonna believe me who's telling the truth about what happened?

Yeah, bout what I expected. Shove me in your car and haul my ass off to jail. Me who didn't do nothing 'cept call the cops. I shoulda known you'd believe his lies. You damn suits always hang together. What're you gonna do now? Go tell them court house lawyers that it was just business as usual at Black Jacks. Couple of girls fighting and one got herself killed? Didn't no one see nothing.

You'd best get that notion out of your head cause there ain't no way I'm letting that prick suit get away with murdering Jilly. And just for the record, I seen that psycho greasing your palm to make his troubles disappear, and you slipping that baggie-wrapped knife into your pocket. You figuring on a little blackmail? Well, you'd best forget that bit of sideline financing cause there ain't no way I'm keeping my lips zipped just so's you can upgrade your fifty dollar Salvation Army suit to a Sears Special.

A gun, huh? Well, I guess I shoulda seen that one coming.


pattinase (abbott) said...

This is why I wanted a story from you. Fabulous. It's oozing with style and grit.

Gerald So said...

Great voice as usual, Sandra.

sandra seamans said...

Thanks, guys! And thanks for hosting the challenge, it's been fun with a lot of great reads. Though I've got to admit that I wish I'd had another hundred or so words to put a better ending on this one. I changed that ending about fifteen times and I'm still not happy with it. Oh well, next time.

Ray said...

Sandra - do not change the ending. It has one hell of a punchline - and doubles the impact of the story.

David Cranmer said...

Sandra, Ditto what everyone has said.... wonderful story. I'm really happy to see that you're blogging!

r2 said...

I loved the ending! There were some pitch-perfect lines in there, too. Nice one.

sandra seamans said...

Thanks, everyone! And thanks for the blogging welcome, David. Not sure how it'll turn out, but so far it's been fun.

Cormac Brown said...

Wow, "Murdaland"-worthy.