Thanks again to Cormac Brown for doing this every week. Cheers mate.
The starter sentence, as always, is in blue. This is by far one of my worst effort’s I think, so please tell me the truth. Work is ruling my world at the moment but it pays the bills and “keeps the wolves from the door” as they say, so I’m struggling for time (Hence my lateness).
Up To My Neck.
The trouble with me is that I never realise how deep in the shit I am until I’m choking on the stuff.
And now, with the moon and stars looking down on me, buried up to my neck in the sand with the cheap bitch I was caught with facing me and the tide coming in, I know I’m really in the shit.
“How the fuck have we ended up here?”
“You callin me a…”
“Yes. A bitch. You told me you were a hooker. We go to your room and we end up here. How the fuck has that happened?”
“I don’t know.”
“What d’you mean? Something went wrong, didn’t it? If I get out of here I’m gonna slap you silly cos you’ve got something to do with this.”
“How could I have something to do with it when I’m buried as well? Dumb shit.”
“Don’ get fucking cocky with me, you two bit whore.”
The tide wasn’t that far away and I could hear it lapping away at the sand only a couple of feet from me.
“Shut your whining, Stuart.” The voice came from behind me.
“Who the fuck is that?” I tried to look round, my eyes straining to see who it was.
“My name is, well, let’s just say it’s Paul. I was hired by your wife to follow you and find out what you get up to on a regular basis. I was instructed to get rid of you in an imaginative way but to tell you not to worry about her and your son. They’ll be well looked after when your life insurance is paid.”
“Look, erm Paul. I don’t know what you’re on about. It’s the first time I’ve ever cheated on my missus and we didn’t even get to do anything. I only got my shirt off and a glimpse of her tits and then I wake up here, buried up to my neck in this shitty sand with god knows what trying to crawl up my arse. Look, I’ll double what my wife has paid you.”
“How come I’ve ended up in here?” the woman asked.
“Excess baggage I suppose. Just not your lucky day, love.”
“Come on, mate. Get us out and we can talk about it.” I said.
“HELP! SOMEBODY HELP…”
The woman’s shouts were cut short with a shovel on the top of her head. The thud of the impact was followed by a sickening, cracking noise. Blood ran down her face. In the darkness it looked like ink had been poured over her head. Her sightless eyes stared back at me. If it wasn’t for the fact that the sand was up to her chin, her head would have dropped forward and those eyes wouldn’t be looking at me.
“Oh shit! Now, come on mate. Please, we can talk. I’ll…”
“Sorry. I’m under instruction. I’ll tell you what. I’ll leave this here and if you free your hands you can did your way out before the sea comes for you.”
The man dropped the shovel next to my head and started walking away. I heard him take out his mobile phone and speak.
“It’s done, love. Yes, I’ll be home soon.”
Aint that a kick in the balls, I thought as the first of many waves washed over my head, sending me on my way to meet my maker.
Ah well, there it is. You know the drill, leave a message if you want to. If not, that’s your problem…. 🙂