Crack
Mum always said her hearing was brilliant to make up for her shabby sight. An arm’s length away and everything went blurry, but she didn’t need to see far to do the mending and the ironing and get Miss Olivia dressed for the day.
She didn’t need to see to know what the young master was up to with Margaret, either. He always left the door open a crack, and if she slid to the floor beside it and closed her eyes, she could hear every grunt, every giggle, every smack of flesh. Cheap thrill or not, she’d take it.
Cheap thrill or not, she’d take it.
Yikes, I can't tell if I'm supposed to be skeeved or entertained.
Up to you, I guess? I thought it was mostly skeevy.
I suck. Cause this is too long, and probably belongs in Buffista Fic, anyway. But it is my response to the crack challenge. Also, as much as I'd love it, I don't own Raylan Givens.
Raylan Givens and his partner Rachel pulled up in front of the deserted-looking farmhouse. “Refresh my fading memory…what’s this guy’s deal again?
“You pick the strangest times to care about the paperwork.” Rachel mocked him just so she wouldn’t have to see Raylan messing with that damn hat for the millionth time. Dude knew he was pretty, and that the hat was perfect. Shoot.
“Now that your vanity is satisfied, Mr. Little’s original charge was two counts possession and one count intent to distribute.”
“Not to sound like a bad drug warrior or anything,” Raylan said, “But aside from thinking that pot plant would have to be bigger than my head to sentence him so tough and the idle sort of curiosity that inspires, l had a rough night last night, so my gut instinct is ‘Big whoop’
“Is that your official response?”
“Well, no, my official response would be double-spaced and have Latin I checked on Wikipedia. But that’s a general synopsis.”
“Wikipedia,” Rachel muttered.She checked the paperwork again. “But it’s not pot.”
“He joined half the county in providing freelance pain relief, huh?”
“No, it’s not oxy, either. It’s crack.”
“Huh.” Raylan seemed to be deep in thought.
“What?”
“Do you think it would be cheaper to serve this warrant or buy that man a GPS?”
Flash Fiction, based on Natter convo, with the opening stolen from PC:
Prescriptivist
The little orphan looked up hopefully at the billionaire. "You are not going to use 'hopefully' wrong, are you?" she asked. "Because then, I would have to kill you."
The billionaire smiled at her. "Hopefully I wo-gurgle", he said, the end of his sentence cut off by an ice-pick in the throat.
"Dammit, that is how I became an orphan in the first place" said the orphan.
Most grammarians believe the way the billionaire used the word "hopefully" is just fine, but they probably are better off not saying so to the orphan.
First query for Cog has been fired off.
Readying second query which includes first five pages, so I'm double (well more like octo) checking them. I should fire that off later tonight. That agent has expressed an interest in steampunk and YA.
That will be it for this volley. The next one has shown in interest in streampunk, and YA with female protagonists.
Don't worry, I won't be giving query by query updates. It's just exciting and terrifying to get started.
