Friday Night Drabble Party!
Happy 2016, y’all!
Buy Blood Cruise! Leave it a review! LOVE IT!
That’s it for my shilling. Let’s get to the first Drabble of the year! TIME TO PARTY!
Tonight’s micro-fiction is brought to you by my constant playing of spaghetti western scores as I write my far-future mech western. Yep. Far-future mech western. Hells to the yeah.
Kinkade swung the .45 around as Muoco and Hare stepped into the room. The two men stopped, their hands inches from their own irons. All eyes narrowed and the three stood in the nearly collapsed old church, stucco and plaster at their feet, piles of adobe bricks piled high in the dark, shadowed corners.
“You should have kept going, boys,” Kinkade said.
“No choice, gringo,” Muoco growled. “Took the job. Have to finish the job.”
Hare nodded in agreement, silent as always.
“Sorry to hear that,” Kinkade said. “I have a job to finish as well.”
He fired. They fell.
Disclaimer: Badges? We don’t need no stinking badges!