Trying to blog on a regular basis is hard, with working all day and taking classes to try to reinvent my life after I retire. The search for new, relevant topics takes time that I don’t seem to have at the moment. WordPress has a weekly writing prompt to get the juices flowing. This week’s writing challenge: dialogue. Good dialogue can tell a story all by itself. I dusted this off and polished it up.

Pot Shot

 “Hi ya, Harry.”

“Mavis, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Come to see how you was doing, Harry.”

“Go away. Visiting hours aren’t until seven o’clock.”

“But I’m here now. Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“Should I be after the crap you pulled on me?”

“It wasn’t nothin personal, you know that.”

“Right. Then how come I ended up in the slammer and you ended up in some Park Avenue penthouse.”

“I just couldn’t see myself in stripes. They make my hips look big.”

“Try not spendin’ so much time in front of the mirror, doll. Seems to me those hips have seen too many bonbons.”

“You’re not looking to good yourself, Harry. I hear you had a little . . . accident.”

“Wasn’t no accident. Tommy Barker and his boys ruffed me up. But I’ll live. I’d feel a lot better if you’d scram.”

“But I brought you flowers. You can plant them once you get outta here. Somewhere nice and  sunny. I’ll just make room for them by the phone.”

“I supposed you forget I am allergic.”

“Hard to forget that drippy nose and you wheezin’ all night long, Harry. Besides, it’s a hospital, they got drugs for that.”

“Okay, Mavis. What do you want? You never were good at the Florence Nightingale routine. Spit it out.”

“You’re always so suspicious. I thought maybe the slammer would have mellowed you some.”

“Look here, sister, suspicion with a capital “S” is the only way to survive in the pen. It pays to be cautious. What have you been doing for the last three years? No way you could afford that apartment on the money you lifted from my lock box.”

“I got a job while you was away.”

“Great. You can pay me the ten grand you stole.”

“Never stole, Harry. Borrowed. After all, it would have been mine if you had died.”

“That’s a comforting thought. You’re making me feel good enough to jump out of this bed and strangle you.”

“Here, let me fluff your pillow. Now lay back. Isn’t that better.”

“So who you workin’ for, Mavis? Are you selling lingerie? Or maybe you’re taking it off.”

“You always did have a dirty mind, Harry. I’m working for Tommy. Didn’t he tell you while he was slammin’ your head against the wall?”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me. Are you running numbers or are you running Tommy?”

“Give me some credit. I’ve moved up in the world and I have you to thank for it. All those afternoons at the firing range. You taught me everything I needed to know.”

“Nah, I don’t believe it. You? Whackin’ people for Tommy Barker. Are you nuts or something?”

“Be nice, Harry. It’s a job. Pay’s good. Short hours. I’m home with the kid at night. What more could I ask for?”

“So what are you packing? Some dainty pearl-handled job. No respectable piece would fit in that skimpy purse.”

“Who needs a purse. That’s what flower pots are for.”

© Marie Friederichs

Read about the challenge at http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/09/16/writing-challenge-dialogue/.