Confession

08/12/11

The truck sits in the parking lot of the sporting goods store.

The fuckhead sits there in the driver’s seat and looks at his watch.

I’ve been watching from across the four-lane avenue for the last twenty minutes. He just sits there, lights a cigarette, looks at his watch, again, repeat, do over.

He’s expecting me. I called him from a pay phone over an hour ago, told him exactly where to go, told him I’d be there within the hour.

Why the fuck doesn’t he get rattled? Why the fuck doesn’t he leave?

I mean, it’s not like he can’t score some fucking blow somewhere else.

It’s what I thought, I know it is.

This motherfucker is a fed or a narc or both.

He’s copped from me on three other occasions and I didn’t have any reason until two weeks ago to think that this was what I know it is.

The first time was in January, the next time was two weeks before two weeks ago. And the shit I gave him then, he should have still had something left two weeks ago. He claimed he had some kind of party or some shit. Bullshit. The guy’s looking to make his bones with me.

So I sit there and I let him fucking stew and he doesn’t go anywhere. He sits there another twenty minutes, just lighting and smoking and lighting and looking at his watch and taking another drag.

Finally, I guess boredom on my part, I decide to force the issue and I pull into the lot next to him and I grab my piece and I get in the passenger side of his truck and I stick my steel in his face and I tell him that I want to know what the fuck.

And, of course, he begs off, saying that I got it all wrong, that he’s not a narc or a fed.

And I kinda believe him but I don’t bother going all the way because I kinda don’t believe him.

So I take the safety off, I put the end of the barrel against his temple and I squeeze the trigger.

Brains and blood splash the driver’s side window, which spiderwebs thanks to the slug going through and through. I riffle his pockets, grab his wallet and split, tearing out of the lot and onto the four-lane avenue.

And that’s what happened. Swear to fucking god. You wanna book me now so we can get this shit over with?

~ fin ~

Christopher Grant is the editor and publisher of A Twist Of Noir and a crime writer in his own right, having stories at ATON, as well as Powder Burn Flash, Thrillers, Killers 'n' Chillers and The Flash Fiction Offensive, to name but a few.

That was great -- now I see why it was a winner -- well done
Chad Rohrbacher
September 07, 2011
Fabulous. Something I wish I'd written. Nice and tight and fast, as the good ones always are.
Trey R. Barker
August 19, 2011
Now that's a good one.
August 14, 2011
Great fast pace. And yes, the last line!
August 13, 2011
Tight, tight flash!
Paul D Brazill
August 13, 2011
Chris: Grisly and unflinching.
KJS
August 13, 2011
love the word "spiderweb" as a verb! sweet ending
David James Keaton
August 13, 2011
It doesn't get any leaner than this, great ending. Christopher good to see one of yours, you do this with mastery.
RichardGodwin
August 13, 2011
It doesn't get any leaner than this, great ending. Christopher good to see one of yours, you do this with mastery.
Syzygyorbs
August 13, 2011
You ever walk down the hall with your tighty whities in your hand on your way to bed and turn right into the bathroom and you keep sayhing don't throw your underwear in the toilet don't throw your underwear in the toilet don't throw your underwear in the toilet but -- aw shit -- you do? Sure, everybody's done that. Storey's kind of like that too Don't kill the guy Don't kill the guy Don't kill the -- aw shit. Thing is you understand why it all had to happen. Kinda makes perfect sense . . . 'cept the getting caught part. Good to see you back in action Christopher. You ain't lost a step. Cool.
AJ Hayes
August 13, 2011
Great story with the final line cinching it all up tight. Great work.
Ryan Sayles
August 13, 2011
So this is where you've been hiding. Confession is s'posed to be good for the soul...not sure that's true in this guy's case.
Naomi Johnson
August 13, 2011
Don't do drugs!
Chris La Tray
August 12, 2011
Short and brutal..great work!
McDroll - Fiona Johnson
August 12, 2011
This is why you should only buy your drugs mail-order. Nice work.
Steve Weddle
August 12, 2011
As Paul Brazill would say, tight as a nun's nasty. Very sharp last line.
Chris Rhatigan
August 12, 2011
Good one.
Peter Andrew Leonard
August 12, 2011

Comments are closed for this post.