The Last Hurrah of General Jackson

At midnight, General Nathaniel Jackson wasn’t expecting uninvited guests. He stifled a belch and listened to their moonlit conversation as the summer heat attacked his sweat glands. “Robbing the Park Avenue bitch was stupid,” a male voice said.

The General poked his nose out of his quarters to catch a glimpse of the interlopers who’d invaded the area surrounding his cardboard box.He observed a young woman lift a burlap bag into an adjacent dumpster.   “You were the one who messed up, Arturo.  Who told you to take Mrs. Weatherly’s jewelry? Couldn’t you be satisfied with the money in her safe? If she dies from that blow you leveled on her head, we’ll go to jail.”

The woman stepped away from the grime-coated dumpster and closer to the light. Decades had passed since the General’s last woman. God, what he wouldn’t give to fondle the firm, ample breasts protruding out of her blouse. He’d be so much better for her than this skinny pipsqueak.

Arturo squeezed the last bit of nicotine out of a cigarette pressed between flaking lips and threw it in the dumpster. “I should’ve cut out the old lady’s kidneys. They go for big bucks in the organ harvesting market.”

“Stop talking stupid and watch what you’re doing, “Carlotta said, slapping his face. “ A fire will bring trouble.”

Arturo hoisted himself over the dumpster, found the butt, and smashed it against the corroded container. “Satisfied? Don’t worry about the old lady. When I left her townhouse, she was screaming for the cops. Somebody else tried to kill her.”

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