Genres Not Included has a special guest writer tonight! Please give a warm welcome to Regan MacArthur, noted American came fiction expert and author, under the name Clint Reno, of the John Lash action/adventure series! But that will be the last warm thing for this episode, as we discover that the only thing colder than the dead of winter is the human heart when money is involved.
Tonight’s #GenresNotIncluded, the Best Typewriter Improv on the Planet is going to be a little different!
Tonight, @EvaNewcastle is taking a breather, and we’ve invited acclaimed author @ReganMacarthur to sub in her stead!
5 posts! I’ll start, and Regan will finish!
— Joe Nelson, September 20, 2024
It was a cold morning. Snow on the ground, frost on the window.
The shotgun was a lead pipe in Frank’s hands as he sat in the living room and waited for his world to implode.
It was funny how much a mistake could cost a fellow. Would be funny if it weren’t for the dead bodies.
They’d been digging the tunnel for months. Frank’s partner went home each night to his wife and kids. Frank went home to his TV.
All that time digging, Frank spoke of plans for the money: where he’d go with his family after the score and they’d buy when they got there.
Danny didn’t say what he’d do with the money. Shit, he had two daughters and that bottle blonde wife! He should have had all the money spent before they’d even laid hands on it.
It didn’t seem fair that he was dead.
Frank lit a cigarette. Mostly for warmth.
It was Daliah who had made him hot. Too hot. She was Danny’s wife.
And Frank’s lover.
The tunnel into Rockfort National Bank had worked like a charm. It was like something out of a movie!
He hadn’t planned to kill the guard. Or Danny. But things had gotten out of hand. He needed to get out of town.
The first snowfall of the year started down from the sky.
But nothing chilled Frank more than Vivian.
Vivian was his wife.
And Danny’s lover.
He hadn’t confided in her. His plan had been to ditch her once he became filthy rich. But she was smart. She was dangerous.
She was the reason Sheriff Hart had come out to the old Baldwin ranch.
Hart was the third soul he’d sent to hell that day.
Was there to be a fourth?
Almost!
Frank nearly blasted a hole through the door when he heard the knock but he had worked out a code with Daliah earlier.
He ran for the knob and heaved the door wide and opened his arms for Daliah.
She was on the other side, all right.
And so was Vivian.
The cigarette dropped from Frank’s lips.
I don’t get it…” he said.
“Baby, remember that movie we liked? ‘Bound’?” Daliah cocked her head. And the .38 in her fist.
Ah hell.
Yeah, Frank got it now. And you know what? Vivian might have been a bitch, but she was smoking hot.
The women made him dig up the loot from where he’d hidden it behind the cabin.
“Seems like a perfectly good hole,” Vivian said.
“It would be a shame to waste it,” Daliah said.
Frank had some last words he wanted to say, but they didn’t give him the chance.
FIN.
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