“Eddie Walton looked down at Clay Calvin as the evangelist huddled in the corner, trying to disappear.
“You remember when you and your goons had me, and you gave me that long-ass sermon about why it was right you fleeced your parishioners, and why it was right you were going to have me killed?”
“Y-y-yes,” Calvin whispered.
“That’s when you signed your own death warrant,” Walton growled. “Any last words?”
“I… I heartily repent of my sins, I ask God’s forgiveness, and I…”
His prayer was interrupted by Eddie slamming the butt of his .45, Geraldine, into Calvin’s cheek. Bone cracked, blood spurted, teeth shattered, and Calvin’s incoherent shriek of pain had Eddie’s teeth grinding.
“Now I go to work on you,” he growled.
Through his pain, Clay Calvin stared up at Eddie in slowly dawning sick comprehension.
“I told you I was going to kill you, fucker,” Eddie replied, smiling, cleaning the butt of Geraldine on his shirt tail. “I never said I’d make it quick.””
another story I won’t be writing.
listening to: sky growlies
mood: hoping for rain