Midnight Stink

It’s midnight. The fog is thick. I move along the street like a cat on thin ice. There’s a certain menace in the air, a bad smell, something ain’t right here. A kid jumps outta the shadows asking me to go into the liquor store and buy him beer and cigarettes.
“Beat it Buster” I tell him, and walk on past. Then I hear him whistle behind me. Next thing there’s a whole bunch of goons in front of me. Can barely see ’em thru the fog. A lone street lamp bounces off the hand of one of the punks. He’s holding something shiny. A watch? No, too big. An iPhone? Wrong era. A flick-knife……?
My heart starts pounding and my blood runs cold like I’m in some kinda bad 80’s song.
A hand grips my shoulder tight. I try to turn around but…….

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