Pros and Cons


Pros and Cons




"Hey"
She looked up from the margarita she was stirring with a straw. It just didn’t make sense. Drinking a margie through a straw meant you would miss the salt.

“Hey”
She squinted into the mirror; he was sitting solo in the booth behind her.
Shit! She’d planned on calling it a night.So,’ she thought, swiveling around on her barstool, ‘Are you a 33 or a 333 word man?’
“Oh, hello there” Smiling. A touch surprised.
“Buy you a drink?”
A 333 word man for sure. Was he slurring? She couldn’t tell. She swirled her glass, watching the ice clink. “Thanks, I’m good”
He was hesitating.
“But thanks, anyway.”
That was it. Enough. He was sliding across the vinyl, standing, crossing the carpeted floor. Green, with blue and black swirls. God, that had to hide a lot of spills. Like the scotch he spilled on his weave over.
“Oops” He shook the scotch off his hand.
“Oops” She handed him a couple of cocktail napkins.
He dabbed at his pants. “Guess I need a refill.” He settled onto the stool beside her.
She smiled shyly. “Silly isn’t it? Why would anyone drink a margarita from a straw?” She delicately licked the icy concoction off the black plastic straw.
“Isn’t it a swizzle stick?”
He was staring at her mouth.
“A swivvle stick?”
“Swizzzz-El. ZeeZee not vv. You know, a stirrer.”
“Oh right. Silly me.” A little laugh.
“Come here often?”
She almost snorted, laughing in disbelief. She couldn’t help herself. “You didn’t!?”
He grinned, shrugged acquiescence. Kind of charming really.
Oh, what the hell, spare him. “Look, can I let you in on a little secret?”
“A secret? Should I promise not to tell?”
“Seriously. Can I tell you something in confidence?”
He straightened, shook the smile from his face. “In confidence? You are serious.”
“I gotta go.”
“But it’s early.”
“I gotta work”
Now!?” It was 11:30 at night.
She smiled, stood up. “Now. Promise not to tell?”



One look at this blog tells you I haven't tackled fiction (or anything on this blog) for a long, long time. But I heard about the Trifecta Writing Challenge and I figured wtf. My mother was plagued by Alzheimer's and I'm terrified I have it already. A little writing, good, bad or really, really stinky couldn't hurt the grey matter any.
This had to be a minimum of 33 words and no longer than 333. I guess you know which it is. It also had to use "confidence" in this specific way.
By the way, I blog about books and movies based on books, over at chapter1-take1 just in case you want to visit!

Popular posts from this blog

Above Ground on the London Underground—Day 18: HELP! I’m nowhere near Abbey Road

Pretty French Postcards

My Mother’s Voice