The Job

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The car appears in front of Cartwright’s Mercantile as planned.


On cue, Mr. Cartwright opens his shop door in his bathrobe and steps out on the sidewalk to examine the car. We overhear Mr. Cartwright saying, “What the….” He then circles the auto twice, kneeling to touch the colored paint (We assume he wanted to know if the paint was still wet. He wipes his fingers on his bathrobe.). He reaches up to check if potted plants on the roof of the auto were real (Again he wipes his fingers on his bathrobe. All going as planned.).


A few onlookers stop to look at Mr. Cartwright in his bathrobe standing in front of the car. Some shake their heads and move away. However (and this is a big however,), our old woman stops and peers into the passenger side window, something Mr. Cartwright failed to do (How did he miss this? Check notes.). Our old woman turns to scream at Mr. Cartwright. He does not see her gun (Perfect!).


Wait for it…. Yes, Mr. Cartwright is down. Job Done.

Written for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers Week of 11-10 through 11-16-2015. Link to other contributions.