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this is not the prompt response I had started out to write.  somewhere along the way,  the plan I'd had for this little story changed.

[livejournal.com profile] prompt_a_day #409: Kicked Out


...and not a moment too soon," the keep remarked as finished ineffectually wiping the grime from a glass. "That feller, every year, this very same day he comes in and does the same thing: drink a bellyful and ends up near starting a riot. Any other time he's here, no problem, coupla drinks, pays prompt, tips well and Bob's your uncle.

"But THIS time he's gone too far."

"Hows that?" says I.

"This time, he's messed with the fella what wants to buy this bar," the keep replied, nodding to a smallish, sharp gent with a rapidly blackening eye.

"I see. So, buying a bar here isn't as easy as walking in and waving a credstik around?"

"No, in theory, it should be that easy. Only this gent is as like to close and raze the place as he is to keep it a bar. And the owner, Jack, that is, no Jack feels he has an obligation to keep us cripples employed. He won't sell to one as he feels won't keep the bar open."

And with that, he limped back down the bar, leaving me to stare vacantly into my drink and ponder my options. I'd left home to make a fortune, and was no closer than I had been a decade before. I still don't know WHY that fella keeps getting himself thrown out of this place.

talkendo: (Default)
[livejournal.com profile] prompt_a_day   #408

What he didn't know would come back to haunt him.  Oh, life is grand when you don't know your multiplication tables.  Or so you'd think, anyway.  But one day, you find yourself in the store needing to know how much forty-two apples cost at 7 cents each* and you can either do a LOT of addition or, well, suffer.

But I digress.  As I was saying, the fact that he was completely unaware that there was a surprise party planned for him would be his undoing.  Well, not his undoing, really, but certainly quite a shock.  Enough to make everybody concerned for his welfare when he went all pasty-grey and weak-kneed.  And then when he clutched his chest and leaned against the doorjamb?  Well, I think  everyone knew at that point it was probably a bad idea to hold a surprise party for an 85-year-old.

I'm sorry, Harry.  If I'd known we'd scare you literally to death, I wouldn't have arranged such a shock.  I mean, it's not like you left me anything in your will, now did you?, you penny-pinching old coot.  Damn your eyes, Harry Mitchell, damn your eyes.


*$2.94 plus tax title and license.  Offer not valid in CT, TX, AZ or VT.  Other restrictions may apply

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