Thursday, February 11, 2016

Sometimes Avocados Go Bad

The Writing Prompt for today is:   Sometimes Avocados Go Bad

Sometimes Avocados Go Bad
Roger Daggett Saturdays desk, his legs propped up, and watch the Sun move across the wall at the pace of a snail. He had been in the same position for three hours waiting for his first client of the day. He was a detective, at least that's what he called it. Everyone else would call him a private investigator, some maybe even going so far as to say a private dick. He of course hated that, dick implying some sort of sexual reference. Investigator seemed a little awkward. He didn't do much investigating, but he did do a good deal of detective work.

Today he was waiting for a Mrs Elizabeth Butterfield. Another in a long line of unhappy wives with husbands that like to do a little exploring with their dick. She had called two days ago and sounded rather distressed. She had set up the appointment for ten o'clock this morning. So far she was a no show and he was getting impatient, and a little hungry.

Just as his patience was about to completely run thin a knock sounded at his door. Trying to compose himself, he stood up and straighten his suit. The he pulled open the door. Outside was a lovely young lady, perfect in shape and with a beautiful smile. He stressed "Good morning" and motioned for her to enter the room and take a seat.

He crossed back to his seat and sat down. He gave her the customary warming smile. "So what's bothering you ma'am and how can I help you?"

She said for a moment and stared at him. Her eyes studied his face. She carried on in this fashion long enough that he began to feel a little uncomfortable. Just as he was about to open up and say something, she spoke.

"As I said on the phone it's my husband. I don't think he's faithful anymore and I want him gone." Her tone was flat, serious, and lacking all emotion. She didn't reached inside of her purse and pulled out something in a clear ziplock bag and place it on his desk.

Roger could see the .45 inside the bag but he did not move to touch the bag. "Gone," he asked.

.   .   .

This story was written in about seven minutes.
Word count: 373

About the 8 Minute Writing Prompt:
The 8MWH is a habit forming program where your aim is to simply write something for eight minutes straight each day, over time this will become a habit. The goal is to provide practice with writing and thus make you a better writer who can put words on paper easier. I plan on posting a short phrase and image each day in the morning and later that evening posting my story. Due to the time limit these will often be incomplete or possibly even suck. 
If you would like to join me, post wherever you like and add #8MWH to your post. Please remember that your stories can be about anything and the writing prompt may be a title, a phrase in the story, or heck, not even used at all in the story. It is meant to serve as nothing more than an inspiration.

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