Sorry guys, I’ve been writing non-stop for days and nights (well, not really) trying to get my third novel a little more finished, but unfortunately I’m not as far along as I had hoped. So, the characters aren’t developed enough to really have interviews with them. Again, sorry, I guess I won’t be introducing them this week, but I will soon! But that doesn’t mean I don’t have a little consolation prize for you. I’m releasing the beta first page of No Place for Fairy Tales as a kind of teaser, just to show you what I’ve been working on. I hope you enjoy it!
No Place for Fairy Tales
“I hope you’re planning on paying for that,” I said, leaning on my mop handle and gazing over the stubby convenience store shelves to stare at the three middle school boys, the next aisle over.
They were in the candy aisle, and they were having way too much fun there. Each had an open bag of candy in their hands, none of them had been to the check-out counter yet.
“What’s it to you, Mop-girl?” one of them asked with a sneer.
Probably the leader. Trouble makers always seemed to need a leader.
“Mop-girl, the dog-faced freak,” one of the leader’s cronies said, half under his breath.
The other two losers chuckled as if they were sharing a secret joke.
“Hey morons, I can hear you just fine from over here. How about you drop the candy and get the hell out of the store. Now,” I said, flipping the mop around so the soggy mop-head was shoulder high and I was holding the handle with both hands.
“Or what, you going to make us?” the other crony asked.
Boy these guys were stupid.
Without waisting another word on them I swung the handle I had been leaning on, around and up over the tops of the shelves. The sopping wet mop head arced through the air, missing one trouble maker, but hitting the next guy square in the jaw. The ragged cloth wad collided into his face with a satisfying “Slap, Squish” sound. The trouble maker wobbled on his feet for a moment in the wake of the mop, and then he kind of stumbled to sit on his butt on the floor.
The two remaining guys stood there staring at their buddy in stupefied shock for a heartbeat or two, and then they realized that I had a back swing.
As the filthy, wet missile reversed direction and sailed towards them again, the idiots panicked, nearly trampling their downed buddy in a hurry to flee the store. Seeing that he was being left behind by his closest friends, the be-smacked guy scurried off the floor and bolted out of the store after them.
Of course, being the tough guys that they were, they had to have one last parting jab.
“Crazy Frankenstein!” the last one yelled over his shoulder as the door swung closed after him.