RoosterSmith
05-24-2012, 09:14 PM
Hey guys, this is a short story I wrote. Always looking for feedback, but more than anything, I hope you all find it entertaining...
Mitch was 15 minutes late. Quinn was on edge. He desperately needed the delivery. Not just the pills, but also the new stuff. They called it the “Miracle” on Earth. But on Eden? They called it a sin.
Quinn was hoping for a miracle. And as he sat there in that almost empty bar, downing another pint, he prayed for one.
Mitch arrived in the middle of that prayer. The fat ****. Looked like every other Outlander on that night. Red and Black scarf over his coat. Gonna watch the Derby Match later no doubt. While the world crumbles around him. He had the briefcase though.
Mitch nodded at the bartender, old Rusty. He had owned the place for years. He also nodded at the random wino hunched over the bar. Why not? He was in a good mood.
He hadn't seen Quinn for a long time. He had heard a lot of things about him. Now he was selling him drugs. A lot of those things were true then.
And he looked like ****! He was always pale and skinny but not THAT pale and skinny! He looked dead!
Still wore the trench coat. Made him look even skinnier.
Damn, Mitch thought. The only guy from the neighborhood to ever go to collage. Now he's a junkie. Depressing …
“Yo, Quinn! What's up, buddy?”
Quinn waved. Why are you so ****ing late, you git!?“Beer?”
“Thanks, man! But I can't! Got one more delivery and then it's off to the Stadium. Outlanders!”
Quinn forced a smile. “Outlanders. Right.”
“After that, though! Everyone gets together at Fosters. You should pop by!”
“I might.” Another fake smile.
“Cool!” Mitch place the briefcase on the table. “5,000 points, my friend. You have expensive taste.”
“Yes. Very expensive. Can't find this on Eden. And it's all here?”
“Of course. You're welcome to check.”
Quinn did check. The pills were there. And the red powder they called Miracle.
“I don't have the money, Mitch.” He closed the briefcase.
Mitch was confused. “You don't have the money?”
“No.”
Just then Mitch's phone went off. It was a classic tune, “Baby got back.” When he saw the caller ID he tensed up.
“Oh, no. Quinn, I have to take this for a minute. Just one minute alright?”
Mitch got up and walked far enough away so no one could here him. He answered the call.
“You're not allowed to call this number anymore! The Fish wants you dead!”
“What's in the briefcase, Mitch?” Jack's voice was horse.
“Briefcase?” Mitch knew right away. He must have followed him. He must be outside.
“I knew if I waited here long enough you'd stop by. But there's nothing in your car but weed. So I want what's in the case. You can come out here or I can come in there. It's up to you. I got a blaster.”
“Damn.” Mitch hung up the phone. “Quinn, I got a problem.”
Mitch turned to Quinn. He was standing now, holding the briefcase in one hand. His coat was opened and Mitch could see he had a blaster of his own, holstered on his belt.
“Oh **** ...”
“I'm sorry, Mitch. But I don't have that kind of money. I wouldn't do this if I didn't need to.”
“Are you ****ing serious!? How the hell do you expect to survive this!? I work for the Fish!”
“I know. Whatever happens, I'll deal with it.”
“What about me, *******? I can't lose another delivery! Fish had Bob beat the **** out of me last time! This time? They'll kill me!”
Quinn was unmoved. “I'm sorry. I really am.”
He began to walk towards the exit but Mitch shoved a hand in his chest. Quinn pushed the hand off and pulled the blaster.
Rusty jumped back from the counter. The bum just sat there and watched. Maybe if someone died he'd get a new pair of boots out of it.
Now Quinn was aiming the weapon at Mitch's chest. “I will shoot you, Mitch!”
“You're not gonna shoot me! Jesus! You were never that guy! I don't buy it!”
Mitch wasn't as confident as he came across though. Doubt had kicked down the door of his mind and left a huge turd in the toilet. ****! I hope he hasn't become that guy!
“Look, man,” Mitch started again. “You just need help. They got programs for this. Don't get in trouble with someone like Fish because you need a fix! That's a world of pain for nothing. Come on, Quinn ...”
Quinn took a minute but he holstered the gun.
“Thank, God! You ****ing scared me, man ...”
He let out a deep sigh of relief.
Then Quinn punched him in the head as hard as he could.
Mitch hit the floor harder than Quinn would have liked to see. But there was no time to hang out and see if he was okay.
“I'm sorry, Mitch.” And Quinn left the bar.
Mitch was 15 minutes late. Quinn was on edge. He desperately needed the delivery. Not just the pills, but also the new stuff. They called it the “Miracle” on Earth. But on Eden? They called it a sin.
Quinn was hoping for a miracle. And as he sat there in that almost empty bar, downing another pint, he prayed for one.
Mitch arrived in the middle of that prayer. The fat ****. Looked like every other Outlander on that night. Red and Black scarf over his coat. Gonna watch the Derby Match later no doubt. While the world crumbles around him. He had the briefcase though.
Mitch nodded at the bartender, old Rusty. He had owned the place for years. He also nodded at the random wino hunched over the bar. Why not? He was in a good mood.
He hadn't seen Quinn for a long time. He had heard a lot of things about him. Now he was selling him drugs. A lot of those things were true then.
And he looked like ****! He was always pale and skinny but not THAT pale and skinny! He looked dead!
Still wore the trench coat. Made him look even skinnier.
Damn, Mitch thought. The only guy from the neighborhood to ever go to collage. Now he's a junkie. Depressing …
“Yo, Quinn! What's up, buddy?”
Quinn waved. Why are you so ****ing late, you git!?“Beer?”
“Thanks, man! But I can't! Got one more delivery and then it's off to the Stadium. Outlanders!”
Quinn forced a smile. “Outlanders. Right.”
“After that, though! Everyone gets together at Fosters. You should pop by!”
“I might.” Another fake smile.
“Cool!” Mitch place the briefcase on the table. “5,000 points, my friend. You have expensive taste.”
“Yes. Very expensive. Can't find this on Eden. And it's all here?”
“Of course. You're welcome to check.”
Quinn did check. The pills were there. And the red powder they called Miracle.
“I don't have the money, Mitch.” He closed the briefcase.
Mitch was confused. “You don't have the money?”
“No.”
Just then Mitch's phone went off. It was a classic tune, “Baby got back.” When he saw the caller ID he tensed up.
“Oh, no. Quinn, I have to take this for a minute. Just one minute alright?”
Mitch got up and walked far enough away so no one could here him. He answered the call.
“You're not allowed to call this number anymore! The Fish wants you dead!”
“What's in the briefcase, Mitch?” Jack's voice was horse.
“Briefcase?” Mitch knew right away. He must have followed him. He must be outside.
“I knew if I waited here long enough you'd stop by. But there's nothing in your car but weed. So I want what's in the case. You can come out here or I can come in there. It's up to you. I got a blaster.”
“Damn.” Mitch hung up the phone. “Quinn, I got a problem.”
Mitch turned to Quinn. He was standing now, holding the briefcase in one hand. His coat was opened and Mitch could see he had a blaster of his own, holstered on his belt.
“Oh **** ...”
“I'm sorry, Mitch. But I don't have that kind of money. I wouldn't do this if I didn't need to.”
“Are you ****ing serious!? How the hell do you expect to survive this!? I work for the Fish!”
“I know. Whatever happens, I'll deal with it.”
“What about me, *******? I can't lose another delivery! Fish had Bob beat the **** out of me last time! This time? They'll kill me!”
Quinn was unmoved. “I'm sorry. I really am.”
He began to walk towards the exit but Mitch shoved a hand in his chest. Quinn pushed the hand off and pulled the blaster.
Rusty jumped back from the counter. The bum just sat there and watched. Maybe if someone died he'd get a new pair of boots out of it.
Now Quinn was aiming the weapon at Mitch's chest. “I will shoot you, Mitch!”
“You're not gonna shoot me! Jesus! You were never that guy! I don't buy it!”
Mitch wasn't as confident as he came across though. Doubt had kicked down the door of his mind and left a huge turd in the toilet. ****! I hope he hasn't become that guy!
“Look, man,” Mitch started again. “You just need help. They got programs for this. Don't get in trouble with someone like Fish because you need a fix! That's a world of pain for nothing. Come on, Quinn ...”
Quinn took a minute but he holstered the gun.
“Thank, God! You ****ing scared me, man ...”
He let out a deep sigh of relief.
Then Quinn punched him in the head as hard as he could.
Mitch hit the floor harder than Quinn would have liked to see. But there was no time to hang out and see if he was okay.
“I'm sorry, Mitch.” And Quinn left the bar.