I was hanging from the ledge because of a clumsy misstep. It was my last case, and most important. I was retiring after twenty years as a detective and five pursuing this man.
He pulled me up and uttered words that changed me forever.
“The game is all I have.”
Thomas Summerson is a daydreamer and storyteller. He writes everyday, as work and family life allows, of course. He dreams and labors toward the day when he can leave the day job behind and write full time. “Twenty years of schoolin’ and they put ya on the day shift” It’s true Bob, it’s so true.
“I’m just a lonely cowpoke,” Billy admitted. “I ain’t no gun-totin’ hero, really.”
“Aw, shucks,” Milly muttered. “I was countin’ on you to save my ranch from Bad Bart!”
“I’m awful sorry, Milly.”
“Don’t be, darlin’. Truth is, I’ve been lyin’, too.”
“Y’see, pardner, I actually am Bad Bart!”
Mister Murder Mouth cackled villainously. “If you want to live, answer this mathematical skill-testing question! Multiply my social security number by the cost of replacing my birth certificate!”
“Evil, dirty, filthy, rotten cheater!” I cried. “You’re an illegal immigrant! You have no SSN!”
“Blast,” he said, and I walked free.
This story is based on a title suggested by @metcarfre.
Everyone was avoiding Martina like the plague. (Well, to be fair, they only avoided her “like the plague” because she had the Plague and was quarantined, but they did it very rudely!)
Martina stewed in resentment until she became an evil villain. Then she died. Of the Plague, of course.