Day 242: She was a fat woman whose eating habits were dainty. There was a cheque for $13612 dollars in her purse, not made out to her, but, you know. She was good at figuring these things out. Start with her hair.

Golden ringlets hung lankly around her moonlike face, the housing of a set of thin lips and small, piggy eyes. She reached out with a pudgy hand, sausage fingers grasping for a set of cutlery from the bucket in the centre of the table. She held it, triumphantly, then began to carve her food into smaller and smaller chunks. “A gobbet,” She muttered to herself, “a piece or lump of flesh, food or viscous matter.”

The door to the diner opened and two people walked in. A large man, easily carting around two duffle bags, one black and one grey. Behind him, a diminutive redheaded girl cowered and shuffled through the tables towards her. She eased her bulk from her booth and extended her arms towards the man. “Shark, my boy, how are you?” She flicked a hand dismissively towards the girl. “Have you been playing with your food again?”

He laughed, a belly laugh that rolled around the mostly empty diner. The few remaining patrons didn’t stir, being regulars to this place. They were walking oxymorons, regulars in such a transient spot.But, regulars they were and as such were used to Daisy’s visitors. “Not me, Day. You know I wouldn’t do something like that.”

She tutted. “Yes, the very image of a model criminal. I suppose you want your cheque?”

“At least you know that. $13612, right? Which name did you put it in again? Butch McClean? Carter Harris?”

She laughed, a rich tinkly laugh that was completely at odds with her gluttonous exterior. “No, I went with the old favourite. Topham Hatt. Proceeds to his charitable foundation. All legit, of course.”

“Of course. Now, what should we do with the girl? I’ve got the pickup for Markowitz.”

Daisy looked the redhead up and down. “Ooo, I’ll take her. Don’t you worry, I won’t hurt her. She’ll be waiting for you when you’re back. Now go! Go. Marky doesn’t like being kept waiting now.” Shark gave Daisy a quick hug, looking to all intents and purposes like he’d been possessed by the Devil and forced into the act of intimacy, gave one last look at the redheaded girl, then left. Daisy watched the door, waited for the lights of the Nissan to disappear, then turned to the redhead in a righteous fury. “Right, now he’s gone. Sit your arse at that table and don’t move until I tell you to. You fucking idiot. How did you stumble into this? Four years of work down the drain…”

The Idiot in Tin Foil

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “Day 242: She was a fat woman whose eating habits were dainty. There was a cheque for $13612 dollars in her purse, not made out to her, but, you know. She was good at figuring these things out. Start with her hair.

You know you want to talk to me. Do it here!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s