Chicago Down
Talk about foreshadowing. Can you see it?
“Never call me Toots again, Al,” Sal said.
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Know what?”
“What? You about to cast a kitten?” Al said.
“Cast a what?” Sal demanded, eyebrows drawn together hard. “What, you ass?”
“Don’t fuck with me, girl, or you’ll end up in worse shape than that Screaming Meemie I just bashed.”
“Oh, stop. You’re not gonna do shit.”
“You’re something. What happened to hard boil a sweet, young thing like you?”
I’ve never been sweet.”
Copyright 2016 Wanda Paryla
WANDA S. PARYLA 