Shotgun Honey

April 25, 2015 6:29 PM

Short stories. Crime. Hardboiled. Noir. Something like that. 700 words maximum. Make it tight. Make it hum
posted by mrbigmuscles (10 comments total)

There was an urge that led to a deed which involves hired dicks who discover the larger picture then either achieve objective or suffer trying. Filing cabnets, train schedule, flinty knives and big oily guns handled by Cliff, Dutch, and Joe.

Fred Macmurrays' option. Perfumed bourbon, one leg on the floor.
posted by clavdivs at 6:41 PM on April 25, 2015 [7 favorites]

Stripped of all pretense save for pretension, Bicky sauntered into the bar. He knew who he was looking for, and he knew who he was going to find. They were both the wrong guy. Bicky eyed up the barkeep, who owed him one as many as he owed back, and nodded, on the sly. There.

"Say, pal, could you tell a friend where a buddy could find a girl, you know the one, compadre!" said Bicky to the guy.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," said the regular boyscout.
posted by Slap*Happy at 7:06 PM on April 25, 2015 [2 favorites]

Perfumed bourbon, one leg on the floor.

That is a story I would drink read.
posted by Dip Flash at 8:19 PM on April 25, 2015

"I knew I was in trouble from the moment I started trying to compose a witty comment for this thread," thought not_on_display as he... uhh... ummm
never mind
posted by not_on_display at 8:24 PM on April 25, 2015 [9 favorites]

I had my feet up, throwing cards at my upturned Fedora in the corner, smoking my last Chesterfield, when *she* walked in. The kind of dame that could make a clock run backwards, with gams like the Colossus of Rhodes.
"What are you doing in the women's bathroom?" she said.
posted by uosuaq at 8:42 PM on April 25, 2015 [15 favorites]

Yay! OMG I have a story for this! I need to run it by some readers and make it tight first though.

This reminds me, I need to check up on MicroHorror.com, founded and run by MeFi's own Faint of Butt.
posted by infinitewindow at 9:09 PM on April 25, 2015

She had left me three months ago, and I was still hurtin'. I threw myself onto a barstool next to a guy who had hardened there like a piece of gum, and held up a finger.
The barkeep handed me a shot of Kentucky Straight Razor, and I poured it down my neck and held up another finger.
As I lifted the glass, I felt a breath beside my ear.
I downed the shot, and I turned.
"Take me back, Butch," she whispered. "I'm sorry I ever left."
I took her back like an overdue library book. That dame owed me five cents a day.
posted by Mister Moofoo at 9:12 PM on April 25, 2015 [2 favorites]

"..if this is anyone but John Swartzwelder, you're stealing my bit!"
posted by The Whelk at 9:59 PM on April 25, 2015 [1 favorite]

The girl was built like I thought her up myself.
posted by sidereal at 6:10 AM on April 26, 2015

She was tall. Yes, she was very tall. How many's that? Sheesh. Ummm. She was, like America, a land of contrasts...
posted by Trochanter at 7:43 AM on April 26, 2015