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Short story: <i>At The Pub</i>

I admit it, I was a bit pissed. Well, I was on the way. I'd had a few, you know? Anyway, there I was, minding my own business, having a drink or two with some mates on a Friday night, and there's this toff sitting near us, one or two tables over, and he and his mates were listening to us.

That doesn't usually bother us; we go down the pub all the time and we know that we're entertaining in a rowdy way, it's part of the image, we're lads and we're proud and everyone in the pub should know what team we're for and what girls we shagged in the week and what it is we've done.

Anyway, I was talking up what I'd done during the week when one of the toffs leans over, friendly-like, and taps me on the shoulder and asks for a cigarette.

Well, I told him that I only had roll-your-owns, cos that's all I smoke, because I like the taste. But he looked at me like I was some sort of poor-arse on the social who the government dole money out to every fortnight and who sit around doing nothing but smoking weed and watching Australian soaps all day. So I asked him, quiet like, what the fuck he thought he was looking at.

He wasn't really weedy-like, but he wasn't big either, and I remember thinking through a beer haze that he and his stupid poncey beret and cigarette holder and rollneck obviously had some kind of deathwish.

I went to stand up, a little unsteady but I was leaning on the table, and he looked at me, even worse this time, and muttered something about his personal promulgation of non-violence and an offer of amnesty. I didn't understand a fucking word he was saying and that pissed me off even more and Rags was helping me up from my chair and the toff was grinning at me superciliously and I grabbed the table with one hand and got ready to swing and I didn't care that I was about to fucking smash all his teeth out and then all of a sudden, one of his toff friends grabbed a bottle and fucking glassed me in the face!

Nah, I don't want to press charges. He was a weedy little fucker. If my face didn't hurt so much I'd shake his hand. And now I have this fucking cool scar. The girls already love it, know what I'm saying?

This is the result of a fifteen minute writing exercise. The only constrictions were the time limit and five randomly selected words from the dictionary. Today the words were: amnesty, dole, promulgate, smash, and face.

Image courtesy of andresfib.

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