Time
A Thursday Prompt story

© 2019 by Walter Reimer



Prompt: pro


Well, it’s time.

Long time coming, too. My old grandpa said that he could see it coming, and took himself out of the game before it happened. The old lion said he didn’t want to be around for it; said he was “Too old.” Took Grandma with him, which is why I cheerfully pissed on his grave that night after we buried them, side by side.

But they’re dead, and we’re alive, facing the oncoming storm.

I woke up to the sound of a group of budding pharmaceutical entrepreneurs negotiating a business dispute, just down the street. Nothing had started flying in my direction, which was good – well, so far. Theresa and our cubs were safe. I had them move out to Grandma and Grandpa’s old place in the country.

Little Davy didn’t want to go; wanted to stay here and help me. Made me proud, but I told him to help his mom and his little brother, and sent him into the car with a swat under his tail.

Uh-huh. The business dispute’s starting to get a bit louder, and I hear the first ricochets against the concrete bollards.

I sighed as I checked the magazine tube in my shotgun. No sense in calling the police; they’re not coming. See, the Attorney General opened his muzzle and said that if people don’t respect the police, then they may not deserve police protection.

In hindsight, that was the starting gun, so to speak.

Putting on my gun belt and grabbing a bandolier of rounds for the shotgun, I was reminded of something some wise guy said, something that exactly fits these times.

“’When the going gets weird,’” I muttered as I set up a firing position, “’the weird turn pro.’”


end