Short, Short Story

I had never met a man like him before. I met him in a pub called the Mucky Duck. It is half way between Manchester and Boarhead. There was one woman, two men and a dog in the pub when I walked in. The woman was in her late sixties, with unkempt grey hair. She wore a sleeveless studded denim jack and a short black leather skirt and was swearing at a mop that had been left leaning upside down near a table, ‘How could you take him away from me, you slut? You’ve had more pricks in you than a second had dartboard, and If you come near my Bill again… ‘

She turned to me and slurred, ‘Taxi?’

I shook my head.

The dog, a big overweight hairy creature, lay in the middle of the room. It lifted its ear and flicked a tired glance at me. A telephone rang in the bar. The barman, a small round man with an impressive beer belly, answered it. Putting the receiver down he shouted across to the woman, ‘You’re Taxi’s outside, love.’

She ignored him.

‘Husband left, her then?’ I asked.

‘Yeh,’ he replied, ‘twenty years ago.’

‘Pint of bitter, mate,’ I asked.

As the landlord pulled my pint, a car bleeped few times outside, and then an Asian man walked into the pub saying, ‘Taxi for..’

On seeing his fare he stopped mid sentence and looked at me. He pursed his lips and shook his 

That White Man In The Corner

I had never met a man like him before. I met him in a pub called the Mucky Duck. It is half way between Manchester and Boarhead. There was one woman...