Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Day Forty-Two: Prose

The sharp crackle of the speakers in the old bar had been phased out by the regulars. After night after night of attending the drinking establishment the white noise gets shut out, and copious amounts of liquor can't hurt either.
“Can you keep a secret? Would you die to keep your mouth shut? I figured as much. Pussy. You know when I was your age, I kept all kinds of secrets. You know, the kind of shit that would get a bitch locked up for murder or fucking treason. I can keep my mouth shut. My shit is like Fort Knox.”

“Really? You won't tell me anything?”

“Fuck no! But I want another pint.”


No comments:

Post a Comment