Food of the Gods
Chaco pinched the joint from El Hefe’s nimble fingers. He set the point to hover near his lips, disappearing beneath a draping mustache and inhaled a stream of reefer smoke into his barrel thick chest.
“Yo, Chaco. Save some for us, cabrone.” Miguel the interpreter, sleek with words and gracious, empty complements shouldered the bigger man.
Chaco disengaged, handing the diminished nub to his friend. Through compressed gasps he said, “The weed es gratis, cabrone. Look around, ees everywhere.”
Continued…
https://davecline.wordpress.com/2019/09/15/sepscenewrimo-fifteen/
Anonymole
desertcurmudgeon
September 22nd, 2019 at 5:47 am
When I saw the title, I thought for a second you were picking up where Paul left off! Great starter!
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September 22nd, 2019 at 9:15 am
I had my doubts as to whether writing scenes, such as they are, would payoff. Thus far, I’ve been pleasantly surprised.
Time is the challenge, as it always is with writing—stealing time, I should say.
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September 17th, 2019 at 7:58 am
Then, in the famous words of Peter Green, don’t ask me what I think of this one.
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September 17th, 2019 at 11:51 am
“I might not give the answer that you want me to…”
Yeah, yeah. I was channeling Indiana Jones, donchaknow.
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September 17th, 2019 at 11:55 am
Change the channel! Quick!
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September 15th, 2019 at 8:52 pm
You write very well…..
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September 16th, 2019 at 7:27 am
“Everyday, in every way, I’m getting better and better.” Thanks.
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