Pancake Eyes

He rang the doorbell twice and leaned back against the porch rail.  She answered with her Remington .38 in her grip.  She kept it low, but ready for action.

“Yes?”

Her voice croaked like a frog this time of the morning.  George stepped lightly to her and handed over the DVD.  She motioned for him to let it drop and back away.  He complied.  After all, she had the gun.  And she had used it on him before.  His knee still itched when rain crept about.

“Anything else?”

“You're still a peach.”

“I swear I'll shoot you in your other knee, you old bastard.”





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This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)