Broken Mirror Shard - Day 3

Big and I talked again about putting out a collection of these Broken Mirror-type stories.  Honestly, between the two of us, we probably have enough for a collection with fourteen or fifteen tales no one has ever read.

But it's unlikely anyone ever will.

***

            “That claw game over there,” Anthony said, gesturing.  “Can I have a quarter?”

            “Nope,” Stewart said, feeling grown up.  “Those machines are rip-offs.”

            “Nuh uh, that guy just played it and he won a necklace of solid gold.”

            “Solid shit is more like it.  It’s a waste of money.”

            Anthony was adamant.  He was two steps beyond adamant.  “Not this time, Stewart.”

            “I’m not stupid.  You’ll lose, then you’re gonna be mad at me.”

            “Nuh uh.  Why would I be mad at you?”

            “I don’t know, Annie, but you will be.”

            “Don’t call me Annie.  Just give me a quarter.”

            Stewart shook his head, but unzipped the little compartment in his shorts and gave his brother a quarter.  It wasn’t long ago that he’d been a little kid, thinking that he could win prizes—or worse, worthless tickets at an arcade—because the machine looked so easy.  They all looked easy, that was the—

            Anthony came back to his side.  “It’s fifty cents.”

            Stewart rolled his eyes.  “Dude . . .”

            “Come on.”

            Stewart squatted down so he was even with the seven year old.  “Those games are rigged, man.  They look super easy, but the claw doesn’t close all the way, you know?  So whatever you’re after just slips right through.”

            “This one isn’t like that.  The guy with the ear holes pulled out a gold necklace, and the claw was closed on it.”  He made a claw out of his little hand to show him what it had been like.

            “Annie, you’ll be throwing away your money.”

            “Wanna bet?”

            “I’d be betting fifty cents, and that’s too much.”

            “If you’re right and I lose, we can go wherever you want tomorrow.  I won’t complain.”

            “What if we go throw rocks at lizards behind the old quarry?”

            Anthony squinched up his face.  He hated cruelty to animals, even jokes about it.  Then, his face went slack.  “Okay, even that.”

            “No shit?”

            “No . . . shh.  But if I do win, you can’t call me Annie anymore.  I hate that.”

            “You do?”  Stewart pretended to be surprised.  “You’re kidding.” 

            The boy was exasperated.  “It’s just a quarter, man.  It’s not the end of the world.”

            Stewart felt in his pocket.  There were at least two more quarters in there, but he considered claiming he had none.  Finally, he pulled one out.  “Alright.  But when you lose, your name’s Annie all week.  And no bitching.”

            “I’ll tell Mom you said the b-word,” Anthony threatened, almost automatically.  Heck, maybe it was even a joke.

            “And no bitching about language either.”

            “Deal.”

            He handed the money over.  “Okay, Annie, go throw away your money.”

            “Your money, actually,” his brother said, and scampered off.
 

Words Today: 451Words Total: 1443