Payphone

Newt called across the bar to Tosser. Tosser adjusted his crotch and signaled to the bartender. Why’d they call you that? asked Newt, settling in. They don’t, said Tosser. He pulled out his wallet. Buy you a pint? offered Newt. Tosser thumbed the edge of a hard slice of tenners. They snapped like firecrackers. Tell you what, he said. See that phone? In fifteen minutes, it’ll ring. Pick up and say: What do you want, Tosser? Newt coughed. And if I don’t pick up? – My friend here (he nodded towards the bartender) will break the receiver over your head.

[xnihilo]

Friday Fictioneers

http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2013/05/22/24-may-2013/