Ficlets

Crotchy Corbet's Bad Day

“Gaddamn kids!” the old man cursed, leaning too heavily on his cane.
The old man, who went by many names: Ol’man Corbet, Ol’Crotchy, Crotchy Corbet, he preferred Darius, stood outside as he watched Nora’s house smolder. Some said she got caught in the fire too; no word on the Wendy kid. That one was trouble.
He knew full well who’d burned it down. It was that bloody retarded Cooper kid- uhh, what’s his name? The same fire-happy bastard that had lit up Ol’Crusty’s house the night before.
He missed Crusty. He was a good old pooch. Ol’man Corbet had never brought himself to getting rid of the doghouse after the the dog’s passing.
“Excuse me,” it was a cop.
“whah?” Corbet squinted at the flash-light,”Put that damn thing down, i’m half blind already, for Cripes sakes!” he scowled.
“I’m sorry, sir. I’m Officer Carlson,” said the cop, “You wouldn’t have happened to see anything suspicious going on next door before the fire would you?”
“See? No, dammit, didn’t I just tell ya I was half blind – what are ya, an idiot?”

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