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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Death · #2199006
Jimmy and Georgie's last chat
"Oi, Georgie?"

"What is it?"

"How's your granddaughter doing?"


"How's Cheryl going?"

"What do you want to know for?"

"I was just thinking about her."

"Well, maybe you should stop thinking about her."

"And why is that?"

"Because I know the way you think, and it's disgusting."


"You're thinking about having it off with my granddaughter, and I'm here to tell you, no!"

"I never said that. I'm just curious, that's all."

"Yeah, sure. Curious, huh? Well, she's not interested. Why would she be interested in a decrepit old fart like you?"

"Speak for yourself, Georgie. A lot of young ladies have told me that they're attracted to my vintage allure."

"Yeah? They'll tell you anything on those phone-sex lines."

"And how do you know?"

"Your sister told me."

"Bertie? Let's not bring her into this."

"Oh, but talking about my granddaughter's fine?"

"More than fine."

"And why's that?"

"Because Bertie's a saint whereas Cheryl's a-"

"Watch it now, Jimmy. Don't make me slap you off this bench."

"Like you could with your arthritis-ridden fingers."

"It'd hurt, but it'd be worth it."

"Oh? Then why don't you do it, big man? I'm right here."

"Ahh, you're not worth it. Say, what's happening over there?"


"Right in front of you, you buffoon. That guy just stole that lady's purse."

"What? Oh, yeah. So he did."

"Should we do something?"

"Like what, Georgie? We're two old geezers with hip problems."

"I don't know. It seems like we should be doing something."

"I'll hit him high with my cane, and you get his legs with your walker. Sound good?"

"Oh, he'd trollop us, wouldn't he?"

"That's what I'm trying to tell you. We're not spring chickens anymore, Georgie. We'd end up either getting hurt or getting in the way."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right."

"Hey, what's she pulling out of her pocket there?"

"Is that a gun?"

"Looks like it. Maybe we should go."

"I think you're right. Oh, wait! The thief's coming this way. Wait 'til he passes."

"Gee, criminy, Georgie. She's firing. She's shooting at us! Georgie? Oh gosh, Georgie!"

"Oh no! What if she hits-Jimmy! She shot you, Jimmy! Oh, dear, God!"

"It's alright, Georgie. At least the bullet went in my chest. A couple of inches further south, and I'd be leaking the coffee I had with lunch."

"You cheap bastard."

"Well, I gotta save for that date with Cheryl somehow, don't I?"

"Keep dreaming, sunshine. She don't want an old pervert with a hole in his chest."

"Oh, this? She'll love it, you'll see. She'll..."

"Jimmy? James! Come on, Jimmy-boy, wake up. You'll be fine. You can't leave me like this; you just can't! Somebody call a doctor!"

455 Words
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