August 21, 2010

The Piss Taker - A Short Story

The sharp smell of piss assailed his nostrils. Cold weather diminishes strong smells. That's why women wear stronger parfume in the winter. Heavier, sweeter, yet more fleeting the second the icy wind whisks it away. Fairbank felt pressure building in his heart.

"They're coming" he thought to himself.

Hunched down into his shawl, like a turtle, he turned his body. The plastic door of a battered honeywagon hung open. What happened to the pissoirs?

He gripped the stake. The pivotal moment in his life was descending. Too late he realized, he was holding a steak. That was a flaw. Damn.

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