Flash Fiction Month 2019, Day 17
“Password?” grunted the bouncer through the metal shutter.
There was the sound of a bolt being drawn. The door swung open.
Grant tipped his hat and made his way down towards the basement, the “Oontz, oontz, oontz” of the music getting louder with every step.
Larry was at the bar as always, eating a Wilson’s Snack Pie: “Scrumptious Steak,” it looked like.
“I’m after some information,” said Grant.
“Aren’t you always?”
“Well I’m not here for the twelve-dollar mojitos.”
“Two-for-one on Fridays,” Larry pointed out. “But point taken. What is it this time?”
“Missing person.” He slid the photo across the bar. “You know anyone who might know something?”
“Not here, but try the docks. I hear Big Martha’s having trouble shifting her merchandise: if one of her competitors has anything to do with this disappearance, I’m sure she’d be only too happy to send you their way.” Continue reading