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Thursday, October 22, 2015

Won 2015 Autumn Final Iron Writer! + C114

I won the 2015 Iron Writer Autumn Open Final, thanks to you and my friends. Also, thanks to Mathew W. Weaver...respect! He could have swamped me with votes but he didn't. He's a dude.


I'm also writing up all those Challenges I missed in the last 6 months, I now have only 8 (only!) to go...here's the latest one...:-)



Iron Writer Challenge 114 
Elements: 2015 Miss Gypsy Universe Pageant, A pick pocket contest, Hand Cymbals (the tiny ones, used between fingers), A red nose

“Come on, this has got to be better than selling socks from a bin liner,” smirked Tomi, nudging Virag in her exposed ribs.
“Not by much,” she scalded. “To think I won Miss Gypsy Universe Pageant 2015 for this. Working on the street, prancing around to the applause of Japanese tourists.” She wiped the sweat from under her arms and got ready for another dance.
“A lot of girls would’ve given their right arm for this gig!” he shouted. “But if they did, it wouldn’t’ve made such a good show. Get out there and make some money! I’m doing my bit.”
“Yeah, you’re mostly hanging around on the corner, smoking it all away,” she spat.
“What do you mean? Me and Csaba have got a contest on today!”
“What, a loping around and doing nothing competition?” They hadn’t pick pocketed anybody all day. The Boss wouldn’t be happy.
“You know the big stuff only comes out at night. Meagre pickings in the morning,” he said.
“Excuses. You wait until the Boss pops over, I bet you start working then,” she retorted.
“You watch your mouth! Now get going!”
She put on her headdress and hand cymbals and stepped out in front of the small portable display. Clicking a button, she started the music and began dancing, making sure she smiled and gave a glimpse of her alluring charms for every passer-by, whether a local or tourist. After about fifteen minutes, she took a breather and checked the ‘donations’ box. A few coins and a mint. Whoever gave a mint? She checked her breathe and ate it.
“What are you doing? Keep dancing,” said the fat man as he came closer. It was the Boss. She gave him a quick nod of her head in respect and tried not to laugh at his ludicrous red nose. He drank too much and it all concentrated into his big honker.
“Sorry, but I need a five minute break, I’ve been at it all morning,” she said.
“If you don’t start dancing right this instant, I’ll find you another place on the street, and it won’t be so classy, I can tell ya!” he grimaced.
Pushing herself up from her make-shift stool, she wiped her brow and started the music again. The Boss watched her for a while, a big smile on his face. A few tourists went by and gave a little offering. The Boss came a little closer.
“When you’re done for the day, come over, I’ve got something else for ya,” he said, grinning from ear to ear and holding his nuts. She almost puked on the spot. “Where’s that Tomi? And Csaba. They should be around here, working.”
“They’re around,” she said, enjoying the reprieve. She glanced across the square and spotted them together. Tomi didn’t look so happy. Maybe he’d already lost the pick pocket contest. He came over.
“Hey, Tomi!” The Boss gave him a strong handshake, and was surprised when Tomi stabbed him in the gut.








 





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