The Git, The Welshman, and the Pilfered Stash
“Say again why our hundred thousand quid was in there!” yelled Mickey.
“Been stashing here for years. I was jobbed,” said Nigel.
Yesterday, Nigel stopped at a petrol station for a bottle and a smoke.
“Spare a fag?” Gwyn asked.
“Fuck off,” Nigel barked, butting out his cigarette and trundling into his lorry.
Later, Gwyn spotted Nigel’s lorry at the side of a road near Reading. He noticed a stepladder jutting out the concrete structure in the adjacent field. Nigel lay passed out at the bottom beside a bag of money.
That night, Gwyn burst into a pub in Aberystwyth. “Pints all around!” he yelled.
This has been an installment of the Friday Fictioneers Challenge. If you would like to give the challenge a try, start at Rochelle’s Purple Blog and join the fun.
Here’s the concept: A weekly picture is posted, and the writer is challenged to produce one-hundred (more or less) words of some sort of fiction with a complete plot (beginning, middle and end).
Have fun and happy writing!