Monday, November 20, 2006

The Return of Flash Fiction Friday with #61

“Place your hands on the gun.”


“I said, put your hands on the gun.”

“Are you serious? What, and let you shoot me?”

“I know this a foreign concept to you, giving someone an even chance.”

“You can’t say that, you don’t even know me, man! If anybody has had a conflict with me in the past, they brought it upon themselves and they knew the consequences. You deal with me wrong, you get the short deck.

“I’ve seen pictures and the chalk outlines of the people that you’ve dealt with. I’m going to explain it to you like this; you don’t know if it's loaded or whatever. All you do know is that if you don’t shoot me first, I’m sure as hell going to shoot you. You see, at least this way, you’ll get what those two poor kids that you killed last year didn’t get, a fair chance. All that was unnecessary, you shot everyone standing on that corner, but your intended target. You are unnecessary.”

“If you’re going to arrest me, go ahead. I’ll be free by tomorrow, if not tonight. You don’t have anything on me or you would’ve brought me in already.”

“Ah, see, can't take your eyes off it, can you? That gun’s just a little too damn familiar, isn’t it? You're guessing that it’s the very same gun that you did Jason with. Hell, if I were a betting man, which I’m not, I’d guarantee it.”

“I’m not touching it.”

“Fine, your choice. We’ll do this old West-style. I’m going to put my gun down here, about the same distance away from me, as yours is from you, and then we’ll reach for them.”

“You can’t make me-“



“Oh, look at that, you couldn’t even wait,” Detective Pablo says with a voice just above a whisper.” The Detective picks up his gun and points it at Lee McKee.

“C’mon Lee, you know the drill, get down on the ground with your hands and feet apart. Put your hands slowly behind your back.”

After Detective Pablo handcuffs Lee, he holds up something in front of his face.

“Oh, you were missing the firing pin, but I’ll make sure that it makes it back into the gun that you used to kill Jason Jacobs by the time we get to the station house. You know the one with your fingerprints all over it.”

J.J. wanted a poem or short story that started out with “place your hands on the…”


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