Issue #81
[image error] “You son of a bitching bastard, can you just roll the nice normally? Just one time, for fuck’s sake?”
Edmund ignored the question as he moved the die cast steamer over the Short Line, past the dreaded luxury tax and Broadway, around the corner and into the promised land. “I’ll roll ‘em whichever way you want pally,” he said. “It still comes out in the end with you sucking it.”
The right cross came over the board so quickly he didn’t even have time to consider ducking. Tiny pinpoints of light danced around him crazily as he toppled over backwards. He waved his arms around to try and regain his balance and ended up spraining his wrist on the floor for all his troubles.
Before he could try to stand, Sachs was on top of him, the mask of humanity melted away in a fire of rage that was showing itself to the world, and not for the first time. Blows rained down from above and Edmund tried to roll away but couldn’t. He did the best he could curling up into the fetal position and tried to protect the more sensitive parts of his body.
“You own every God dammed hotel and every thing always has to roll for you you son of a god—” Just when Edmund thought he was tiring out, the intensity actually went up a notch. He thought he should probably fight back but the situation was so absurd. Besides, as hard as Sachs was trying to hit him, it really wasn’t hurting him that much. Better to let him just wear himself down.
Edmund looked to the right at the sound of a surprised inhalation of air. Doris was standing in the doorway, her mouth hanging open at the sight of her husband on the floor being beaten by their next door neighbor. He could see her trying to make the connection between a kids game and the brawl that was happening on her parlor floor. Edmund was so focused on her that he only barely registered the sudden reflection of light off of metal.
So it was that he had just enough time to consider the decisions and events that had led him to this; the result of one lucky toss of the dice and one off hand comment. How many things could have been done differently that would have put him onto a different path. One that didn’t end with a steak knife, buried in his chest, protruding from the center of a growing stain of red on his shirt.
Thank you for taking the time to visit the blog, I hope you enjoyed the story! If you did, I hope you'll consider sharing this story via your social media of choice below, or even leave me a comment!. You can also subscribe above to receive email notifications of new content when it is available.
All text content is the exclusive property of the author, Chad A. Clark and is intended solely for the purposes of viewing online. Any copying, downloading or re-distribution is strictly prohibited.
©2014 Chad A. Clark All Rights Reserved
Edmund ignored the question as he moved the die cast steamer over the Short Line, past the dreaded luxury tax and Broadway, around the corner and into the promised land. “I’ll roll ‘em whichever way you want pally,” he said. “It still comes out in the end with you sucking it.”
The right cross came over the board so quickly he didn’t even have time to consider ducking. Tiny pinpoints of light danced around him crazily as he toppled over backwards. He waved his arms around to try and regain his balance and ended up spraining his wrist on the floor for all his troubles.
Before he could try to stand, Sachs was on top of him, the mask of humanity melted away in a fire of rage that was showing itself to the world, and not for the first time. Blows rained down from above and Edmund tried to roll away but couldn’t. He did the best he could curling up into the fetal position and tried to protect the more sensitive parts of his body.
“You own every God dammed hotel and every thing always has to roll for you you son of a god—” Just when Edmund thought he was tiring out, the intensity actually went up a notch. He thought he should probably fight back but the situation was so absurd. Besides, as hard as Sachs was trying to hit him, it really wasn’t hurting him that much. Better to let him just wear himself down.
Edmund looked to the right at the sound of a surprised inhalation of air. Doris was standing in the doorway, her mouth hanging open at the sight of her husband on the floor being beaten by their next door neighbor. He could see her trying to make the connection between a kids game and the brawl that was happening on her parlor floor. Edmund was so focused on her that he only barely registered the sudden reflection of light off of metal.
So it was that he had just enough time to consider the decisions and events that had led him to this; the result of one lucky toss of the dice and one off hand comment. How many things could have been done differently that would have put him onto a different path. One that didn’t end with a steak knife, buried in his chest, protruding from the center of a growing stain of red on his shirt.
Thank you for taking the time to visit the blog, I hope you enjoyed the story! If you did, I hope you'll consider sharing this story via your social media of choice below, or even leave me a comment!. You can also subscribe above to receive email notifications of new content when it is available.
All text content is the exclusive property of the author, Chad A. Clark and is intended solely for the purposes of viewing online. Any copying, downloading or re-distribution is strictly prohibited.©2014 Chad A. Clark All Rights Reserved
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