Flash Fiction Challenge ABC Meets XYZ

This is my flash fiction for the ABC Meets XYZ Flash Fiction Challenge presented at terribleminds.

Pride and Prejudice meets The Godfather. Under a thousand words. Also I just suck at making titles. Also has profanity.

Two for the Price of One

The stretch limo pulled in front of Winter’s Bakery. Sitting in the back of his limo, Tommy ‘Quickfingers’ Buzzetta looked thoughtful and unhappy. Drumming his fingers on his drink. His men sitting across from him avoided eye contact.

“It should have been mine Joe.”

The bigger of the two men nodded,“Yes boss.”

“I had everything in place. This bakery was perfect for the business. Just he wouldn’t sell. Stupid fuck. Showed him though.”

The owner of the bakery Trey Winters just died last week, natural causes. Better be natural causes for all the money he paid for the job. It would probably take the CIA to detect anything. With Trey Winters gone, Tommy was sure the business would fall to him. The proper hands been greased. This should have been a done deal.

“Then this fucking bitch came from out of nowhere! What’s her name…”

“Cynthia Winters.”

Cynthia Winters. Trey’s daughter. A desk jockey from overseas. In some American embassy in some dirt pile of country that had a name with stan on it. All those backwards countries seem to like stan for some weird reason.

“Cynthia fucking Winters. Once I will get done with her, she will be bow-legged for life.”

“Yes boss,” the men chuckled.

“Who the fuck does she think she is? I run this town. How dare she come back from her embassy deskjob and ruin everything!”

“She knows who to blow boss.”

Tommy laughed, “We will see whose dick she will be sucking tonight.”

“At least she was willing to meet with you boss.”

“I asked first. My place. She said no. That is disrespect. No one disrespects me.”

“She asked to meet at the bakery.”

Tommy finished his drink, “I call the shots. Not her. She’ll find that out.”

He gestured to the door, “Let’s go.”

Joe knocked on the glass partition separating them from the driver. The passenger got out, a tough looking middle aged man. He looked around and opened up the door. Joe stepped out. Business was normal. There were few people out this cold Sunday morning. None were on the sidewalks nearby. Some cars crossing down the street. No vans in site. It doesn’t look like a sting. Cold though. Still cops could be anywhere. Probably inside the bakery eating the donuts. He smiled at his own joke.

Seeing nothing amiss, he gave the ok for the boss to step out.

Tommy got out of the limo and looked at the bakery. “I’m going to change the name. It is going to be called Dumb Broad Bakery.” The men chuckled.

Joe opened the door to the bakery, a bell sounded and a whiff of fresh bread made his stomach growl.

Stepping in, Tommy noticed that there was no one at the counter. Looking up at the corners, he saw that there were no cameras. Dumb way to run a business. Everyone has a camera these days.

“There is no one here boss,” Joe piped up.

“I can see that. She must have sent the workers home for the day.”

Just then the door behind the counter opens and a knockout of a lady walks in. Her blonde hair was tied up in a bun, she was dressed in all white, tight fitting and dusty with flour.

“Hello, you must be Mr. Buzzetta.” She said, holding out her hand.

The three men stared at her. Ignoring her proffered hand, Tommy cleared his throat. “Yes, I am Mr. Buzzetta. You are Cynthia Winters?”


Tommy pointed to the back of the bakery, “We will talk back there. Frank, keep watch.”

Flustered, Cynthia was shoved back through the door. “You don’t have to do that.” Tommy just pushed her to the floor and she scrambled away to a table. The backroom of the bakery was full pastries, donuts and other bread products.

“Joe, check to be sure there is no one here.”

“Sure thing boss.”

Tommy looked around. Picking up a donut, he took a bite. “Tasty. Don’t mind if I do.” He took another bite.

“You can have it all. Just don’t hurt me.”

He finished off the donut and started to unbuckle his belt, “No, we haven’t started to negotiate.” Her eyes narrowed in horror of what was to come.

Joe returned, “The building is empty boss.”

“Have yourself a donut. We will be staying awhile.”

Cynthia got up from the floor only to receive a slap from Tommy, knocking her back down. “That’s for disrespecting me.”

She cried out in pain as he grabbed her wrist, yanking her to him. He whispered into her ear, “You’d better please me or else.”

He started groping her chest. She screamed and stomped her foot down his shin onto his foot. Yelling in pain, he backhanded her, flinging her towards one of the counters.

Joe smiled, chomping on donuts as he watched.

Stumbling, Tommy was enraged, “You bitch!” He advanced towards her.

Then he doubled over as sharp pain wracked his gut.

“Wha..?” He fell down gasping for air. He was having some sort of seizure. He noticed Joe was on the floor too.

Standing over him, her eyes locked with his. He noticed the stone cold iciness of them.

Seeing his confusion, she knelt down, “The donuts were poisoned. In fact every bread item in here is poisoned. Similar to the stuff you used on my dad, but slower in killing.”

“You..you…”, he tried to call her a bitch but he couldn’t get the words out. In fact he is having a hard time just breathing.

“I give you and your friend about a half hour before you die. It is more than you deserve you sack of shit.”

Tommy couldn’t reply as his body shuddered in pain as the poison did it’s work.

She walked calmly over to the door, he saw her holding a plate of donuts. Turning around, she smiled, “Your crew looks hungry.”

If They Come for Your Guns, Do You Have a Responsibility to Fight?

The D.C. Clothesline

solgunsI feel a tremendous responsibility to write this article though I am a little apprehensive. Thinking about the possibility of rising up against our own government is a frightening thing for many of us. I am not Johnny Rambo and I will be the first to admit that I do not want to die. The reason I feel compelled to write this, however, is simply because I don’t think the average American is equipped with the facts. I feel that a lot of American citizens feel like they have no choice but to surrender their guns if the government comes for them. I blame traditional media sources for this mass brainwash and I carry the responsibility of all small independent bloggers to tell the truth. So my focus today is to lay out your constitutional rights as an American, and let you decide what to do with those rights.

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Lack of Confidence in Your Writing

There it is. The C-word. Confidence. One of the things that can stop you from writing and that is not good.

So I went and did a search online about writers and confidence. Of course there are a lot of people out there that have the same feeling. Even the published ones. I came across one of my favorite sites (absolutewrite.com) and found this on the forums and found a comment that was just too awesome not to share.


The comment below was awesome. Credit goes to the poster at absolutewrite.com  Layla Nahar. I just corrected one spelling error because I am picky 😉

“I’d recommend two things. ah – nope three things

1) Make your immediate goal the completion of your first draft.

2) set aside all concerns about your writing and think only of your story. (the quality of your writing is the concern for your revision. The completeness of your story is the concern for your rough draft)

3) When you get stuck for what happens next, make lists.
Do you take a lunch break, or have time between classes? keep an appointment with yourself at least once a week, and write at least 1 question about your story and come up with at least 5 different answers for that question. Write 5 answers, not 5 good answers. If you give too much thought to the quality of the answer you may stall. the first answer will be the most obvious. Two answers are likely to be stupid (remember, the goal is *5 answers* not 5 *good* answers. Let the dreck flow.) Of the other two you’ll end up with some good material. Make this a practice and your subconscious will get more and more used to sending you fitting solutions to your stuck places in your stories.

keep at it!”

Layla Nahar