Flash Fiction: May 6, 2025
The writing prompt: A conceited character loses a bet with a God.
I’m smoking a butt in front of the bar and the man in the trench has stepped out to join me. He was pestering me right before I left. Something about the way I was talking to the little lady in red near the pool table. He wasn’t her boyfriend or nothin’, but he said he didn’t like my attitude. I just wanted to take her home and feel ‘er up, that’s all.
I told him we could take care of business in the alley behind the bar. Juan had my back all the way, he would’ve taken care of the guy himself. He’s been rubbin’ us the wrong way since he showed up ‘round 10 o’clock. Now I’m ready to give him a piece of my mind.
MAN: “You lookin’ to go, old man? We can duck down that alley right now.”
TRENCH COAT: “Quite the opposite, in fact. You’ve got a light?”
[MAN reluctantly lights cigarette for TRENCH COAT]
TRENCH COAT: “I have a proposition for you.”
MAN: “Spit it out.”
TRENCH COAT: “If you can stay away from Donna for the rest of the evening, I’ll take care of your tab for the night.”
[MAN pauses briefly, then exhales smoke]
MAN: “You got it, pal.”
Now I’m back inside, hovering around the pool table. The guy in the trench came back in, too, but he’s talkin’ to Sal at the bar. Donna is still lookin’ mighty fine in her red dress tonight. Mr. Trench Coat seems to be preoccupied right now, and I don’t think Donna would mind if I added a little something to spice up her drink.
Betty didn’t care. Cheryl was fine the morning after. All of ‘em always kept their mouths shut. Just the way I like it.
Juan and I are on our third game of pool now, and Donna’s startin’ to look a little woozy. She’s about ready for me to take ‘er home–but that guy in the trench just joined us. He’s standing closer to me than Juan, so I ask him what’s up.
“I see you lost the bet,” he tells me.
He’s looking in Donna’s direction when he says it to me. I’m tired of his bullshit. Where did he come from, anyway? How did he even know Donna’s name? I’m ready to give him a right hook—
Pain.
Sharp pain, blinding.
Down my left arm.
I’m on the floor, looking up at Juan. I’ve never seen that man so pale before. I feel myself blacking out. The guy in the trench is standing behind Donna. He’s smiling. Watching.