The Slate

by joetwo

At the familiar thump from outside, Robert filled a glass with stout. Sure enough; in came Larry, dressed like unwashed laundry and reeking of moonshine. The pint was presented and Robert asked, “On The Slate?” his leniency wearing thin.

“No Bob!” Larry said, Pulling out  a wad of cash “I’ve been lucky.”

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Written for The Grammar Ghoul Press Shapeshifting 13 Challenge number 68.

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