(Sammy, the Gat, is a written-for-fun continuing story).
I take the apartment house stairs two at a time and check my stern for signs of a following sea. Frigate-free so far. I tell myself I got the cannon on my side, which is good.
Three doors on the second floor. Does my prize lurk behind Number One, Two or Three? Then I see the kid’s toy danglin’ from the open-shut. A wacky elephant/giraffe/tiger/zebra combo. Red dress or no, Cat’s not here. She’s at the zoo. As I race down the stairs, I’m scattershot by the scruffy Docksiders of an old man of the sea. Friend or foe I wonder as my head hits the deck.
(Click to catch up on Sammy, the Gat.)
(Photo by EL Appleby. Friday Fictioneers, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. June 6, 2013.)