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Daily Flash Fiction no. 3

Bar-B-Q

We found it near the old Chevy Zeke keeps his guns in. He was small, the orange stripes on his belly had turned rusted red. The white crawling stripes were maggots that kept coming like the cat was giving birth.

We tossed it to Bo and Luke, the two dead boys we keep in the backyard. They scare the looters away and Zeke kinda likes it when they slobber on him.

But they wouldn't touch the cat. Just kept staring at it like they was expecting it to come back to life.

Zeke and me watched the sun die with my head on his chest.

"Don't that beat all?" he said.

 
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