Stories tagged new-york-city

Five Million Yen: Chapter 3

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Now you are a raving bare-forked fool madman with nothing.

Five Million Yen: Chapter 4

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There was no one there, but the smell of cooked bacon permeated the hall, triggering borborygmus in his stomach. He loved that word, but not his empty stomach.

Five Million Yen: Chapter 5

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Then he took the tune out to Ben Clarone land. The horn was beautiful, if leaky. His fingers flew over the keys.

Five Million Yen: Chapter 6

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Sure my man. Show me the token I’ll show you the slice.

Five Million Yen: Chapter 7

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The logic of the impoverished was amazing. Like Rita telling me I owed her fifty cents for a token after she stole five million yen from me.

Five Million Yen: Chapter 8

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He finished the omelet and started in on the short stack. He drowned the cakes in syrup. -Never can have enough syrup.

Five Million Yen: Chapter 9

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Naked Lady? I know that from somewhere. Then he remembered. That's what they called those old 1930's and 40's Conn saxophones, Naked Ladies. How would Smith know that?

Five Million Yen: Chapter 10

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Ben watched the cat burglar snake his way from window ledge to window ledge.

Five Million Yen: Chapter 11

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Ben was stuck between sweet essences and rancid Talmudic funk. It was going to be a long trip.

Five Million Yen: Chapter 12

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It is not rough like most grappa, but smooth like good whisky. It removes all edges, freezes the tongue and erases the memory.

Five Million Yen: Chapter 13

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-That’s more like it. He released Ben and holstered his gun under his leather jacket.

Five Million Yen: Chapter 15

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There was a motley assortment of customers in the restaurant. Mostly casually dressed young men and women who looked like freelancers of some persuasion.

NAN : A Novel-In-Stories

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My novel-in-stories, NAN, is now available as an ebook for $6.99. Thanks to everyone who read the first 7 published stories here on Fictionaut.

Five Million Yen: Chapter 17

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-Someone could have boosted this easy as pie, Ben said to himself.

Five Million Yen: Chapter 18

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Detective-Sergeant Claude Mulvihill was seasick. He was in a New York City Harbor Police boat in the East River headed towards the George Washington Bridge. There was a good chop in the harbor, which became worse when the Police Boat reached the Battery.