Bad Day at the Office
He walks into the office looking like he stepped off a GQ magazine cover, in his fancy suit and coiffed hair. I lean against the wall and watch him in the dim light. He looks the place over like it’s beneath him, and maybe it is, but he could show better manners.
“My assistant’s off today, bub. What can I do you for? Name’s Diamond, Samantha Diamond. You in need of a private eye?”
I stick out my gloved hand and wait for him to shake. He ambles over to me, crackling the plastic sheeting covering the floor, grasps my hand gingerly and limp-wrists the greeting. This guy’s a real piece of work.
“Hello Miss Diamond. I’m here on a matter of a stolen ruby necklace. I believe you know what I’m talking about, after all you left your calling card at the scene of the crime.”
He slides a small piece of cardboard out of his pocket and shows me. I can see the business card, complete with the flashy diamond logo and my name and address in gold lettering.
“So I did.” I pull out my gun from behind my back, complete with silencer, and shoot him in the face. Blood gushes and splashes as he falls to the plastic coated floor. I wrap the body quickly in the sheeting and check the rest of the office. I get lucky, with the only other blood residue on me. And I wore old clothes, easily disposable, just for the occasion.
I wash up and change before dragging the body out back and stuffing it into my car trunk with the bag of my stained clothes. Then I make the call.
“It’s done, the guy’s dead. Have the rest of my money ready in two hours.”
In case you haven’t figured it out yet, I ain’t no private eye, I’m a killer. And Mr. GQ got on the wrong side of a lady willing to hire me. Which I like, ‘cause I make a hundred grand (plus a fancy ruby necklace) and Mr. GQ has a really bad day.
This week's challenge: write like a tough guy. Take any story, take any topic and write it like you got a stranglehold on reality. Be tough, be ruthless...