Rattle Rattle, “spare change?” , “help a brother out”?
Pan handling, it’s not so bad. You never have to worry about making eye contact with anybody. Although the concrete IS hot in the summer and sucks the life’s blood out of you in the winter. My knees ache, and butt gets numb at times. Don’t have to worry about feet getting cold since I left those back in Afghanistan.
Hard concrete flashback: snapping in honing our marksmanship skills in the Marine Corps. The circle was asphalt, the rifle sling was tourniquet tight. We knelt facing a target, not firing, just developing muscle memory. Bam!! I saw stars as the DI slapped the rifle against my face, “tighten it up maggot”.
Bam!! Back to reality, a car backfires.
A long legged fur coat wearing high society type approaches the entrance to the high rise apartments with her fru-fru K9. She stops momentarily, takes out a tissue and wipes the dog’s arse.
What’s wrong with this picture?
Rattle Rattle, “spare change?” , “help a brother out”?
Word count-174
Written for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers
Semper Fidelis to all my Marine brethren.
