IN THE DOG HOUSE ~ By Paul D. Brazill of Harbinger*33

IN THE DOG HOUSE

By ~ Paul D. Brazill

  

Bonny is volcanic. She’s so angry that she can hardly speak but, unfortunately for me, hardly is the operative word. As she tries to scrub the blood stains from my best white shirt, she goes on and on about the meal she’d cooked the night before and how long it had taken her to cook it. She keeps asking me over and over again if I want to live on burgers all my life and why, if I’m going to spend all of my time hanging around a dirty warehouse with a bunch of psychos that look like Blues Brothers rejects, I can't at least pick up the phone and call to say I’ll be home late.

My head is hurting, my stomach is rumbling and I’m tired. Bonny is starting to sound like a duck quack quack quacking, so I turn on the radio hoping it isn’t more ‘Sounds of the Seventies’, as I’ve really had my fill of that shit the last few days. The DJ’s monotone drone introduces some LA band destroying a Neil Diamond classic so I switch it off again.

  

Noticing that the heat from Bonny’s eruption has started to cool down, I present her with a bag containing the proceeds of my recent job. When she sees the rare coins in the bag, Bonny’s jaw drops so much you could scrape carpet fluff from it and she lets rip with a string of expletives, so strong that they would even make the young Eddie Murphy blush. Almost tearing off her nurse’s uniform, she runs toward me screaming like a banshee.

Afterwards, when I know that it’s safe, I suggest that maybe we could go out for something to eat. We could even try that Hawaiian burger joint that’s just opened up nearby. Hands on hips, Bonny laughs and says, okay, as long as I promise not to wear that dumb Speed Racer t-shirt that makes me look like a nerd.

Anything you say, I reply and start to walk into the bathroom before stopping and saying that, shit, if the service in that restaurant is any good today, I might even leave a tip. 

(c) 2009, Author Paul D. Brazill 
Originally appeared at Powder Burn Flash in January 2009

One of the founding authors, Opening Night AT THE BIJOU, PAUL D. BRAZILL is always a thriller ~ inimitably charming, to some disarming, but never reported harming ~ that's just his cast of rough'tough characters.  The prolific swing'king of noir, as I know it, was after all, Paul. Post-Bogey, I mentored at this bloke's wide mind of how what one doesn't see really could be. He makes it so. I think his Montblanc smokes, giving further atmospheric light. 

Rumours rampant across the pond of a novel and a big agent in NYC? You're going to have to pester Paul - you never heard it from me. Paul claims he has been lucky enough (he's humble too), to have had stories in A Twist Of Noir, Powder Burn Flash, The Legendary, Beat To A Pulp, Thriller Killers n Chillers, Blink Ink, The Flash Fiction Offensive, Shoots & Vines, Six Sentences and Flashshots. His print published work is in the book Six Sentences Volume Two and the Finnish magazine Ässä.(ACE) and coming soon, Bats In The Belfry - Halloween Anthology edited by Anne Frasier and Radgepacket 4 from Byker Books. Watch for Paul's noir to rock the reader-ship of HARBINGER*33, heralding the greatness of 33 authors along the horizons of their deserving destinies.

Paul Brazill was born in Hartlepool, England and lives in Bydgoszcz, Poland. He has absolutely nothing to do with the shooting of Liberty Valance, nor the monkey purported to be hung in the renown of his town. He can be found stalking at ‘you would say that, wouldn’t you?’ 

~ Na zdrowie Paul, with FairWinds, Favourable Seas
~ Absolutely*Kate and fine staff of renown, AT THE BIJOU