Word of the Day: pittance

Action & Adventure, Comedy, Fantasy, Horror, Mystery, Romance, Spiritual, Uncategorized

pittance (n.): a very small or inadequate amount of money paid to someone as an allowance or wage

Roughly twenty men are standing, waiting for me in business suits and shades at the intersection where the boardwalk and the fishing pier meets. I’m obviously underdressed for the occasion. A v-neck and blue jeans. I look over to my right and notice a flock of birds flying overhead towards me. The way they are flying, it looks more like a single file of dashes than a bunch of birds that’s etched over the sky. Like a game of hangman or something.

When I look back at the same game of hangman standing on the harbor, a white man at the middle of the group steps out. It must be Tommy.

”Beautiful Sunday isn’t it?” he says once I’m within earshot. Tommy smiles and reveals gnarly, yellow teeth. One is even chipped. Disgusting.

”Yeah. You got the shoes?” I say. Stopped the small talk before it even started. I want to make this transaction as quick as possible.

“I see you’re not playing,” he says. “You got the $24,000?” I bring attention to the duffel bag in my right hand. 24,000 even. A pittance compared to what I’m used to paying for my shoes. I’m going to be broke after this but at least I will be like a god at the office for the next week.

“Good,” Tommy says. “This way.” He gestures towards the pier and the suits suddenly part like the Red Sea. I walk ahead of Tommy onto the long pier where there are boats parked on both sides.

“The one over there on the right,” I hear Tommy say. I look back to see where he is talking about.

Of course. The largest yacht out of the bunch. I stop by the bridge leading into the boat and wait for Tommy and the men in suits.

“Not the yacht. The submarine,” Tommy says. “Master will see you there.”


Is there something I’m missing here? Who the heck is this guy I’m buying these shoes from?

Tommy walks over to the sub and the door on top of it suddenly opens.

“After you,” he says. I swing the duffel onto my shoulder and climb into the sub. It’s dark and dank as I climb down the ladder. I reach the bottom and turn. A long corridor stretches out before me. There is a man (who is also in a suit) at the end of it. The guy who opened the sub in the first place I suppose. He beckons me.

As I walk, my breath is loud in my ears. I’m starting to worry a little bit. I’m just ready to get my shoes and get out of here.

The man opens the door behind him and leads me into a large, spacey room. Sitting in the middle of the hollowed space is an old man with his legs crossed and his hands resting peacefully in his lap.

“He is here.”

It was Tommy who had spoke. He had climbed down the ladder after me and now he is right behind me…in a bowed position?! “Bow,” Tommy whispers.

I do.

“Welcome,” says the old man. “I understand you want the last of my new editions.”

Wait a minute. You mean this man is…

”I am Natheodore,” the man says.

Oh…my…god. Natheodore’s from Natheodore himself?! This is officially a dream come true.

Word of the Day: Heuristic


heuristic (adj.)- encouraging a person to learn, discover, understand, or solve problems on his or her own by experimenting, evaluating, possible answers or solutions, or by trial and error

Becoming a man has been one of the hardest things I have ever done in my life. So as I count up the stacks of money splayed out on the glass table in the living room before me with the hockey game on the television as background noise, I’m not embarrassed to admit my heuristic way of life may have been sloppy and reckless, but it works. It’s also nothing short of amazing. I mean I have Khloe sitting next to me looking like an angel in some black, boy shorts and topless. She is doing a number on her 9mm. Practicing putting it together and taking it apart as fast as possible.

“Must you do that shit over and over again? I’m counting money here,” I say. She grabs a handful of bullets and shakes them like dice.

“I’m gonna hit the jackpot tonight baby. Watch and wait. You got me all inspired and shit with all of this money. Looking like a damn ATM in here,” she says. I crook a grin. I reach a hand and grab a chip and dip it into the big bowl of dip on the table.


“Why hockey? Turn the basketball game on. I don’t want to hear this shit.” Knowing I wasn’t going to want to hear the NBA commentators either, I turn the stereo on and “Thank U, Next” by Ariana Grande is playing on the radio. Oh great.

“I love this song,” Khloe says. I sigh.

“I know.” She picks up the remote and turns the basketball game on. The Lakers are playing against the Clippers. Classic LA showdown.

“I don’t like the Lakers,” Khloe says.


“So you should be like me and pick the Clippers,” she says.

“Don’t be such a devil. You’d be the type to be an Angels fan aren’t you?”

“I love angels,” Khloe says. I finish counting another ten thousand and place it over on the right side of the table with the rest of the counted money. Should be 20k more to go.

“Baseball ain’t my thing. I just said it to see if you were one of those dumb ass women who loves the sport that’s barely a sport at all.”

“How dare you talk about baseball like that. It’s hard to hit that tiny ball coming at you that fast.”

“Oh goody. Learn one thing and I can play just fine. When you’re not hitting the ball, you’re standing around probably hoping the ball doesn’t come to you. That’s real difficult,” I say sarcastically.

“Watch your fucking mouth,” Khloe says with a click. She had put a bullet in the chamber. I sit back in astonishment. Would she really shoot me? She stands up rather quickly.

“Take it back! I’m done putting up with your shit. That’s why I’m never marrying you. Take back this piece of shit diamond. I don’t want it anymore,” she says and throws the ring I gave her at my face. She misses barely.

“You ungrateful bitch. Get the–”

The door to the living room flies open and another gun comes from its mouth. It wastes no time. A shot rings out and Khloe falls to the ground.

“Holy shit! What the fuck was that Yovanna?!” A dark, long-haired beauty was standing there with the gun pointed at the pitiful thing bleeding on the floor.

“That bitch was threatening your life Dima. She had to be put down.” I look at Yovanna with wide eyes. More amazed at what she did to help me than the fact somebody was shot in front of my very eyes.

“Call the ambulance. And Yovanna…thank you.”

I look at her body spilling blood on the ground. She is already gone.



Word of the Day: Irascible


Irascible (adj.): 1. easily provoked to anger; very irritable

2. characterized or produced to anger

I was in the middle row of the SUV drumming my fingers against the inside of the door when I noticed her through the back window. Barely on time, but on time nonetheless. I waited to see what she was going to do. Why did they send her?  She had walked over to my side of the car and stopped at my window, nothing but a silhouette behind the tint. A wraith even. Personally, I didn’t trust the bitch, so instead of rolling down my window, I pushed the button to my driver’s window. It went down slow, the only thing daring to speak, cutting the tension like a guillotine to neck. And the tension persisted.

She obviously got the memo and walked up to my driver’s window and poked her head into the car, not bothering to look at me, but instead glared towards the very back where my nephew sat with horrid eyes, his hands resting quietly in his lap for all to see. He knew he had fucked up. But he’s still young, though quite the lout I might add.  I hadn’t taken my eyes off of the woman in blue. Her faint smell polluted my car with a tropic aroma I wouldn’t want my side bitch to wear. I snorted audibly. The next thing that came through that window was that bitch’s finger. It singled out my nephew with a certainty colder than the truth of her presence.

“Don’t get in our way again,” she said. I felt my temper begin to flare. Me being the mafia boss I am, I fully understand how important it is for my nephew to take responsibility for his actions. Him killing one of their plugs is bad for business, true enough, but he is family. That’s not what made me mad. What made me irascible was how close her finger had come to my face. So, what had happened next was beyond my control.

I grabbed her finger, the delicate thing, feeling the phalanges and metacarpals so vulnerable and ready to submit to my will with a simple jerk of my hand.

“Watch who the fuck you’re talking to,” I said. Everything in me wanted to break that finger clutched in my grasp. And I was going to had it not been for that petrified look she gave me.

“He costed us a man. We can’t tolerate losing our men, especially not for the simplest of tasks.”

Her finger trembled in my muscled hand.

“I don’t care what he did. You need to mind where you’re sticking your body parts. You get my drift?” I squeezed her finger and watched her eyes stretch more in horror.

“Yes sir. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“It had better not,” I said, the words bitter as sour milk. I shoved her hand away from me and reached into the back pocket of my driver’s seat to pull out an envelope.

“Here. This should make up for your losses.”

She took the white envelope and said, “It was a pleasure doing business with you.”

“Indeed. You will do well to remember your place in the future. That will be all.” And I rolled up the window without warning, almost decapitating her head in the process.

Dumb bitch.