Maybe. Sometime. Jimbo’d take down the naked chicks. Pool table and cues wouldn’t be warped. No fights ‘tween the Keswick Boys and the Boyton Brothers. Her collection of tips jingling like the other serving wench, Titania’s ear-rings. Goddess of gold-dusted cleavage slinking, purring with tray of fantasies and draft beer.
Yah right. And she’d move outta the trailer into a nice condo. Win the Powerspot Lottery.
Buddy snapped the volume up on the TV. “One of the jackpot winning tickets was sold here at Nerjah’s Kwiki Mart.”
Flashing a grin, Nerjah did some of his best Bollywood moves.
The doll-faced newsperson continued, “Out of curiosity, regulars want Nerjah to replay security tapes to see who picked the numbers.”
“Invasion of privacy,” she murmured, ignoring Kenny Keswick’s wild jestulations for another round.
Lottery numbers appeared on the screen.
“Titania, I’m taking my break early. I got a headache (or heartache).”
“Gotta check those numbers. I might have a collection day coming my way.”
She sailed past poor thirsty Kenny. He could wait. $1.5 billion couldn’t.
Another combination: Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers (week of January 12, 2016), hosted by Priceless Joy (image by Ethol Bagam) and Just Jot It January, hosted by Linda G. Hill @ life in progress, January 17, 2016: collection (suggested by Deborah @ Container Chronicles.)