Did a horse shoot an innocent criminal?

a man died. his friend killed him. cultural tensions were at the bottom of it.

"I'm walking along the street right...n...n...you will...not believe this...man...my underpants burst into flames. Like a full on fire taking place directly in the middle of my body. Im like, saying, what about all the sluts who are gonna miss out on this...as i poured my can of lager on my cock?" exclaimed Red, to Dobbin, his partner for the time being, it seemed. They were both on an errand to collect something for Carl, the guy who had hired them both.

"Hehe, i'd be loving to see that. All your bling blong going up in smoke. your limp lifeless nutritionless body zzzt into a big...poof...of smoke. Gone in an instant? hahaha...beginning at the groin"

"Yo, loser," Red feigned a kind of semi aggressive serendipitous wide eyed smirk in Dobbins direction. Stretching his neck forward 1.5cm. Raising his voice 3 decibels, or thereabouts, Red clarified further, "Me balls is me power, don't be laughing man, dont be laughing...ill take you down man..."

Pupp...ssssssssstt. The sound was immediate and swift.  The bullet removed itself from the barrel a distance, for sure, from the kind of male Red had identified with his alive time on the surface of the planet.

Red crumpled to the ground as dobbin aligned his pistol an inch from his right thigh. It smoked slightly because it had been hot. Reds body, wasn't travelling at the time the shot sliced and cut into his physiology top side at the speed of one of the slowest bullets. Red having took a moment to stop moving, while talking about a remembered experience wherein a possible malfunctioning cigarette lighter had ignited itself next to his unwashed making machine part. And because Red was a mechanic sometimes things can happen you know.

Dobbin holstered his pistol dragging the body, propping it up at the bottom of a tree. Walking off immediately 50 yards and turning, Dobbin takes a slack pride in the way he had positioned Reds body against the huge plant. He easily imagined himself a set designer for Games or Films, then laughed, then considered Reds murder, deciding, he has no need to consider the death as nothing more than another useless cock taken out. Walks off. Walks away from the body. Stretching the proxemic nature of their once brief dynamism as cheap friends, Dobbin quickly wondered if he should have had a quick look inside the Levi's and see for himself if Red had on, the day of his demise, the burnt underwear. Dobbin wondered what the significance would be if it transpired so and further how he had missed a chance to know for sure. He had heard they had been seen in the wash a few times round Reds house. In the moment he had forgotten to take something, he knew this. He began wondering what the significance would not be if Red wasn't wearing his semi famous fashion attire. This idea looked fruitless so Dobbin picked up the velocity of his walking. He still had at the front of his mind the collection for Carl. Dobbin could always move away from an immediacy measured like he had not been there, then the walk picked up pace probably around the 645 yard mark or thereabouts from an illegal incident.


The End

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