So far, I've never missed a TIW Weekend Quickie...now it's on its 28th!
Here's the place to go and see mine and the other TIWs' 200 worders...
http://theironwriter.com/weekend-quickie-28/
But to make it easy for ya, here's my take :-)
Big Chief "He ya ho"
The
arrowhead sticking out above the number 16 announced trouble. Detective Brad
Shaw eased the motel room door open and creeped into the darkness, carpet wet
underfoot. No movement but the bathroom light flickering, door closed. He made
out two bodies, one splayed out on the floor, the other hanging over the bed,
motionless.
"We n'de ya ho, We n'de ya ho, We n'de ya, We n'de ya
ho ho ho ho…"
Brad moved closer to the light, taking up a position behind
a chair, gun pointing towards what he recognised as singing.
"Police! Come on out with your hands up!" Where
was his backup, Lance?
"He ya ho, He ya ho, Ya ya ya!"
Brad's lumbering partner walked in with a burrito from the
El Rancho's restaurant in one hand and his gun limp in the other.
"Whatta
we got, partner?"
The
bathroom door flew open, hinges splintering, light filling the room to reveal a
large Native American, war paint and all, string taut and bow loaded.
"You
gotta heap big angry chief!"
An arrow
cut through Lance like butter and he fell, the burrito rolling over to the
chair where Brad hid.
"Oh, what serendipity!" he
exclaimed. "Chorizo!"
The
arrowhead sticking out above the number 16 announced trouble. Detective
Brad Shaw eased the motel room door open and creeped into the darkness,
carpet wet underfoot. No movement but the bathroom light flickering,
door closed. He made out two bodies, one splayed out on the floor, the
other hanging over the bed, motionless.
“We n’de ya ho, We n’de ya ho, We n’de ya, We n’de ya ho ho ho ho…”
Brad moved closer to the light, taking up a position behind a chair, gun pointing towards what he recognised as singing.
“Police! Come on out with your hands up!” Where was his backup, Lance?
“He ya ho, He ya ho, Ya ya ya!”
Brad’s lumbering partner walked in with a burrito from the El Rancho’s restaurant in one hand and his gun limp in the other.
“Whatta we got, partner?”
The bathroom door flew open, hinges splintering, light filling the room
to reveal a large Native American, war paint and all, string taut and
bow loaded.
“You gotta heap big angry chief!”
An arrow cut through Lance like butter and he fell, the burrito rolling over to the chair where Brad hid.
“Oh, what serendipity!” he exclaimed. “Chorizo!” - See more at:
http://theironwriter.com/weekend-quickie-28/#sthash.5cOe7Y3T.dpuf
