Friday Flash Fiction #16……

Last week, Cormac Brown decided that he wasn’t doing a poll and gave us the starter sentence.

Here’s what he came up with…….

“It was an honest mistake…or it was honestly stupid. Either way, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

So here’s my effort for FFF #16. Hope you enjoy it.

The Deal.

“It was an honest mistake…or it was honestly stupid. Either way, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“But you shouldn’t have said it.”

“It was a mistake. Now give it back.”




Michael took a deep breath, counting to ten as he did so. How fucking stupid was he? He’d only met the bitch earlier tonight. A shitty little bet with his mates that he would get laid before them and this is where he ended up, in some crappy apartment on the wrong side of town with a fourteen stone woman who ate for Britain and fucked like there was no tomorrow.

Why the fuck do I listen to my cock. You don’t promise a woman a share of a lottery win just for a blow job, you stupid twat.

“Look. Here’s the deal, you give it back to me, I get dressed and leave and we pretend that this didn’t happen.”

“No. Here’s the deal. You give me half of this and then we pretend that this didn’t happen.”

This can’t be happening. This is all fucked up. Why did I get into a bet with those two arseholes?

“Ok, ok,” Michael pulled on his boxer’s and jeans and fished his wallet out of his jacket that was hanging on the back of the bedroom door. “Right, I’ve got two hundred and forty quid here, in cash. Just give me that back, you take the cash and I leave. It’s that simple.”

“Simple? Your math doesn’t work out right. You’re offering me two hundred and forty pounds instead of half of this? You aint got no deal there, honey.”

Why do they all do that thing with their heads and finger and think they look like Beyonce or someone. No, no, the black girls can get away with it but not a fat white one.

“Right, come on. You’re doing my nut in now. Just give it to me. You’re really pushing my patience!”

“No. Agree to half and we’ve got a deal.”

“Just give it to me.”

Michael ran towards the bed, pushing the woman backwards. Her breasts wobbled all over the place, touching the mattress at her sides. Her legs flew into the air, offering Michael another glimpse of the place he wished he’d never been.

“Get your fucking hands off me.”

“Just give me that fucking ticket, now.”

Michael grabbed her right wrist and pulled it towards him.

Fuck, she’s a strong one.

He grabbed the lottery ticket out of her hand, just as the front door of the apartment flew open with a crash and a splintering of wood.

Michael turned round, ticket in hand, as two masked men ran into the room. The last thing he saw was the iron bar being swung and then a blinding white light which was accompanied by a sickening cracking noise.


“Mrs Jacobs, I’m afraid it’s not looking too good for your husband. He’s not breathing on his own and there is no brain activity being picked up. It quite apparent now that he’s in a vegetative state. The option is entirely up to you.”


The pub was busy. People stood round the bar area, jostling for places to catch the bartenders eye. Saturday afternoons were always the same. The Red Lion was the only pub in town that showed live football games.

Marie Jacobs walked to the end of the bar and saw them sat at a table under the window in the less rowdy area of the pub.

“Hello,” she said, taking a seat, “I sincerely thank you for getting that ticket back for me and I have the money for you in my bag, but, there has been a change of plan.”

“Whoa there, Marie. What are you talking about, change of plan. You said a straight four way split. Don’t go changing your fucking mind now.”

“Hold your tongue, Raymond.”

Tracey Thomas put a chubby hand on her boyfriend’s chest, calming him down. She shifted her fourteen stone frame in her seat, her thighs sticking together under her tight skirt, each roll of fat around her midriff visible under her tight jumper.

“Let’s just hear what she’s got to say.”

Marie looked at each of them, stopping on John Graham, the one who’d carried out the fatal blow.

“As from yesterday, you are now involved in a murder investigation.”

“Wh…what? A murder? We,” Raymond looked at the other two as he spoke, “We thought he was on a life support. We thought he was going to pull through. John, you fuc….”

“I pulled the plug! I pulled the plug on the cheating bastard. He was going to be a vegetable for the rest of his life and I wasn’t going to be wiping his cheating, lying arse till the day he died.”


“Hello, emergency services. Which service do you require?”

“Please….hurry up. There’s been a shooting at the Red Lion pub on Claremont Road. I think someone has been shot. Hurry up!”


“What do you mean, you pulled the plug? Are you saying he’s dead?”

“Yes. 9:34a.m. yesterday Friday 8th January 2010. He’s as dead as the proverbial Dodo. So,” Marie reached into her handbag and lifted out three envelopes, “Here’s your money. Now, I suggest you do not decline what is inside them and not open them until I leave.”

Marie Jacobs got up, straightened herself and walked from the pub.


Outside a silver Mercedes sat at the kerbside, idling. The driver sat stone faced, eyes hiding behind expensive sunglasses. He watched the woman leave the pub. In the distance, sirens echoed through the streets. He started driving, slowly following the woman. He wound down his passenger window and then lifted the gun up from the seat next to him. Just then, the pub door flew open.

“Fifty quid each! You bitch!”

Raymond ran at the woman, a gun in his right hand.

An explosion sounded and the bullet ripped through Raymond’s right shoulder. He dropped the gun and fell to the floor, his two accomplices, Tracey and John dived to the floor next to him.

The car came to a stop next to Marie Jacobs. The driver opened the passenger door and she got in. There was a smell of gunshot inside the car. Marie turned to the driver and smiled.

“Twelve million pounds honey. Twelve million pounds!”

She kissed the driver as he drove the car away from the scene unfolding behind them.

“They’ll be going away for a long time babe. It is a pity about my brother though.”

Ryan Jacobs eyed Marie as he drove towards the motorway, heading for the airport, a sly smile caressing his lips.

The End.

The usual applies……..leave a comment if you want to but if you don’t, well……be a miserable sod and don’t!



Filed under crime, david barber, david barber's fiction world, friday flash fiction, the deal

13 responses to “Friday Flash Fiction #16……

  1. Oh my God, David! Fabulous! What a den of thieves!

  2. It's a done deal! What a rum bunch! Good one.

  3. That's just twisted….loved it Dave.

  4. I tried to comment three times, but my so-called smartphone played stupid. What I said was, "Nice story, though I worry that you have spent entirely too much time with your in-laws."

  5. Oh Yeah. Just top shelf stuff David. So many twists.

  6. Doc

    You've just gotta love those fourteen stone women, "who ate for Britain and fucked like there was no tomorrow." That's the truth and I would know.The dialog was magical, the characters were as well rounded as they can be in a short story, but for me, the real punch was the story layout. The short jumps in time and scene give this nuance that is damn tough to work into any piece of writing, but especially short stories. I'm looking forward to going back and reading some of your fiction I've missed.Cheers,Doc

  7. Dirty money attracts quite the lot. Fast-paced, edgy, and suspenseful- the deal almost always only works out for one.

  8. Great one David. Thought I wasn't going to like it at first – seemed an obvious scenario – then you got me hooked with the well worked series of plot twists. Pace was spot on. Stunner.

  9. Oooooo! That was great! Very twisted and you know I like all that dirty talk. :P((Hugs))Laura

  10. So I assume Marie needn't have packed a passport…

  11. Thanks all. I enjoyed this one and from the comments, it got you thinking. Job done, thanks.Regards, David.

  12. I love a story where everyone turns out to be a Grade A jerk. Awesome.

  13. Randal, thanks mate. You're as late as me in leaving comments. 🙂

Leave a Reply

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

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

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ 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 )


Connecting to %s