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Honor among thieves

funny short story: honor among thieves


Capital City. 3 a.m. The glow of the sodium street lights always changed Randolph Avenue into an amber monochrome this time of night. A generally quiet place to sleep, once you got used to low hum of the air conditioners dangling from the apartment windows. When he heard a man approaching, Marv ducked himself behind a graffitied dumpster.

“Too easy,” Marv thought.

Marv watched the dirty suit pinball down the brick alley toward him. To remain hidden in the dumpster’s shadow, one hand covered his mouth, while the other grabbed his hungry stomach.

“Hey you! Give me all your money or I’m going to kill you right here in the street,” Marv roared, pouncing from the darkness.

The inebriated white man focused his eyes, and leaned himself against the dumpster for support.

“Perfect,” the drunkard belched, releasing fumes that would roast the nostrils of Satan. “That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day!”

Marv was cold, hungry, and not in the mood to play games. He pulled out a knife that could clear dense jungle from his baggy brown-gray pants.

“You shut the f*** up, and empty your pockets,” Marv demanded while pointing the knife at the man.

As Marv readied his stance to swing the blade, the white man extended his neck.

“Just make sure it’s a clean cut,” the man begged.

Marv looked around, extended the blade above his head, and gripped the handle hard enough to make his wrist flex and shake. The man rested his head on the dumpster like a chopping block, the same dumpster Marv had used as a pillow only nights ago. His desperation confused Marv.

“Woah, woah, woah. Hey man. What’s your problem? I don’t want to kill you. I’m just hungry. Why you wanna die so bad?” Marv inquired.

“My wife left me,” the man mumbled.

“Psh, c’mon man. That ain’t no reason to kill yourself. Look at you! You are young….ish. You got food in your belly, at least before you started puking over there. And, even better, you’re a white man living in America!” Marv said. “Let me ask you something. You gotta house?”

“Yes.”

“You gotta job?”

“Yes.”

“You got some money, right.”

“Yes.”

“Then cheer the f*** up. And let me rob you!”

The drunk man regained his composure, breathing in a healthy sniff and rubbing his eyes in his palms.

“Now when I threaten your life, you’re going to act like you give a d***, is that understood?” Marv chided.

The man’s pouty face nodded slowly.

“Good. Now give me all your f***ing money before I chop you up!” yelled Marv.

“Oh, goodness take it, take it all!” yelped the man.

This story was written by David Gregory, creator of this website. Comment with your thoughts below!
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