Vinny crossed the threshold of the Rampant Horse and counted to three. There it was, Dave's hand waving an empty glass. Timed to perfection you could set an atomic club by it.
Vinny looked down at Scrapps. Scrapps looked up at Vinny.
"You can set your watch by him fella."
Vinny clicked off his lead and Scrapps went to lie under Old Pete's table. Vinny smiled sadly, he didn't think they'd ever break the dog of that habit and nor should they.
Five minutes later he was sat by Dave drinking his first pint.
"Evening Vinster, you're looking a bit trimmer have you lost weight?"
Vinny looked thoughtful.
"Not intentionally mate but I've been walking Scrapps a lot lately."
"Demanding little fella is he?"
"Not really but I'm finding I enjoy walking him so I find excuses to go to the shop. I buy him new toys and we go to the park."
"Why?"
Vinny sipped his pint.
"The dog is a people magnet. People come up to him and stroke him and talk to me. Previously they'd have walked past me."
Dave chuckled.
"A lot widows and bored housewives down the park Vin?"
"Maybe..."
"You sly old dog. Not you Scrapps!"
Scrapps gave Dave the withering look he deserved.
© Darren Sant 2023
Hammered
Good Afternoon all, Thirteen years ago we published our first crime novel 'Maxwell's Silver Hammer' and despite everyone thinking we were thick Northern upstarts it actually did all right (honest it did! ) and helped to fund a number of other publications of ours that exposed new authors to the world. However, it's always bugged us that the cover was…wel…
Blagger
They think they know me in this boozer. Think they know all about me. Wankers. Look at him selling Lynx from a carrier bag. One-fifty a tin, that’s proper big time that is son. The cunt’s made about fifteen quid and he’s swaggering about like some fucking celebrity gangster. It’s not like he’s even a snotty nosed kid either, the fucker’s about thirty an…