10 minute story…

So, I have ten minutes before I should be doing something useful(ish.)

And I HATE not blogging on a week day. I know that you people don’t plan your day around it or anything, but… Speaking of, why DON’T you plan your days around it.

*eyes you all suspiciously*

With the 10 minutes, I am going to write a story. All I have is a very basic concept – “two dudes in a building with guns.”

Okay. 10 minutes… well, like 9 now. Crap!

8 and a half!



They dove for cover as bullets whizzed over their heads.

T.J. reached up for the warehouse door and quickly closed it.

“So, that didn’t go so well,” Chris mumbled as he checked himself for holes.

“No, not especially,” T.J. agreed as her surveyed their surroundings.

They were in a rundown warehouse on the docks.

Survey finished.

“I wasn’t expecting that many people around at midnight,” Chris offered.


“I didn’t see ‘fourteen goons with shotguns’ anywhere in your powerpoint presentation for this plan,” Chris continued.

“Nope again. That wasn’t ideal,” T.J. agreed.

“Wasn’t ideal? I don’t even think they saw you! I was the one they were shooting at,” Chris yelled.

“All isn’t lost. Let’s check the windows for an escape route.”

Chris crawled over to a window on the side of the building. He slowly inched his head up for a peek and —


A bullet shattered the glass and sent Chris sprawling to the floor.

“Are you okay?” T.J. asked.

“We’re good and screwed,” Chris replied.

“Oh yeah, definitely.”

They both looked around at their surroundings.

“Well, I have something I want to get off of my chest,” T.J. mumbled.

“Me too,” Chris said.

“Go ahead. You can go first,” T.J. offered.

“Okay… This isn’t easy for me to say, but… I slept with your ex-girlfriend, but before she was your ex.”

T.J. was in shock.

“Wait… Nicole or Shelley?” T.J. asked.

“Yes,” Chris replied.

“You bastard!” T.J. blurted out.

“I’m sorry, man.”

“I can’t believe this.”

“Well, we are career criminals. Unsavoury sorts. It can’t come as too much of a surprise–” Chris rambled.

“Shut up.” T.J. snapped.

“Shutting. But, what were you going to confess?”

“I – I was going to tell you that it WAS me that ate your last piece of pizza last night.” T.J. said quietly.

“Oh… I forgive you.” Chris smiled.


“Tell you what, you can kill me once we get out of here. I say let’s dash out the front door, guns blasting, head for the water and swim for it,” Chris said excitedly.

“I don’t know…” T.J. wavered.

“Come on!” Chris urged.


“Yeah?” Chris asked.

“Screw it. They are going to come in and get us soon anyway. Maybe we can catch them off guard,” T.J. tried to convince himself.

“That’s the spirit!”

“Do you really believe it’ll work?” T.J. asked.

“Not even a little. Let’s do it!” Chris replied.

They made their way over to the door. They stared at each other for a moment. Then they embraced.

“Let’s do it?” Chris asked.

“Let’s do it.” T.J. smiled.

T.J. pulled open the door and Chris ran out first.

Immediately the night silence was broken with the sounds of much gunfire.

T.J. quickly shut the door… staying inside.

“Sleep with my girlfriends, will ya?”


Okay, that took a bit longer than 10 minutes. In my defense, I answered e-mails, talked on the phone, and badly sang Aerosmith’s “Dream On.”

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