It was already dark when I arrived in Casper, Wyoming. I burst into the Flaming Mongol restaurant, pushed the Maitre D' against the wall, and snorted, "Where is he?" Stunned, he acted like he didn't know what I was talking about. That's when I raised him off the floor and pressed my elbow into his Adam's apple. He pointed a shaky finger towards the back of the restaurant to the door marked "Private."
I kicked the door in and surprised the three Asian men. They were gathered around a desk covered with drugs, guns and money. The two younger men went for the guns. But before either could pull a trigger, I emptied my clip into their torsos. Stepping over their bleeding bodies, I walked towards the older man. He cowered behind the desk. I changed the clip in my pistol as I stared menacingly at him. I reached over and pulled the old man up by his shirt until we were eye to eye.
"You remember this man?", I asked. I shoved a picture of my brother in his face. Trembling, he muttered, "No."
"Take a closer look. Last night. He ate here." That's when I saw the look of recognition come over his face. I punched him in the nose. The blow knocked him into the wall and he slid down. Fearfully, he held his nose, blood covering his hands and shirt. I caressed my pistol and stared down at him. I turned and started walking out.
"The next time he asks for duck sauce and you give him sweet and sour instead, I won't be so nice."
6 comments:
The other day I was eating Mongolian Beef at my favorite Chinese restaurant. This lady comes in holding a sack and asks for the manager. He, and the whole place, get an earful as she tells him how lousy the food was, the delivery driver was rude, and she got sweet and sour sauce instead of duck sauce. And the last thing she says is, "Next time I won't be so nice about it!"
That was the impetus for this. It seemed like such a ridiculus thing to say. I then played with what would have been at least a more proper venue to make such a threat. It was just too absurd. And I jumped headfirst into the deep end. I was exceptionally tickled with "Flaming Mongol".
LOL
Next time the manager throws in free yin yang fish. ;)
HA! Damn, I wish I had thought of that... :)
So, tell me. What did you like and dislike about this. I think I'm going to post more "fiction" here. I would like some criticism. Of my work; my wife takes care of the rest! ;)
Well, you might have a future as a pulp fiction writer. I thought the "Flaming Mongol" in Casper, Wyoming was an amusing contrast. Are there even any Asians in Wyoming? One wonders.
I haven't read any pulp fiction, or at least not detective pulp fiction to know whether this is good pulp fiction, but you came, killed, and left in three short paragraphs, so it was descriptive while still being tight. Maybe a little repetitive on the "I verb" thing--I burst, I kicked, I changed, I reached, I shoved, I punched, I caressed (kinda creepy) and I turned. You might say "Bursting into the Flaiming Mongol restaurant, I pushed..." You did that a few times, but there was a clear pattern. Just need to mix it up a bit or alternate on the pattern every so often.
Yeah, I see what you mean. I need to mix it up more. I wouldn't want to be repetitive. (Oops, I did it again. And again.)
The Casper, Wyoming setting seemed so wrong and ridiculus to be an Asian mafia stronghold. Everyone knows it's run by the Russians. ;) I wanted some place and situation that gave the reader a clue this was going to get absurd. And while I have not eaten there, Casper does boast a Chinese resaurant called the Flaming Wok. Go figure. Another reader who doesn't wish to post *Chris* thought it was meant to be a homosexual slant. Not that kind of flaming.
I do appreciate the feedback. (I keep doing it. I CAN'T STOP! ARRRGH!) :0
It's all about you. I this, I that. I, I, I... ;)
I didn't see it as a homosexual reference, but I did wonder if it was a Mongolian barbeque place, in which case, do they serve duck sauce?
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