Burnt Toast – Microfiction Short Story

Burnt Toast

“What the FUCK is that smell?” Stevie groans as his nose twists up upon itself like a snail escaping into its shell.

“Pete,” Kevin says with a wink.

“W-Who or what is Pete?” Shawn asks with surprise.

“Yeah Pete, or crispy Pete as I like to call him now, the twat from number six who felt up Amy.” he replies nonchalantly while throwing a thumb over his shoulder and gesturing it down the hallway behind them.

Shawn stares at Kevin for several long moments before he smiles nervously and points a trembling finger at him. “Y-You know, you a-almost had me t-there.”

Kevin’s eyes widen broadly as he cringes. “What would I possibly gain from getting you?”

Shawn’s brow furrows, the smile slowly melts from his lips and a sea of sweat quickly beads on his forehead. “W-What t-the FUCK is h-happening here, a-a-and what th-the FUCK h-have you done t-to P-P-Pete f-from n-number s-six?”

A few more moments of silence drift between the two whilst they share another uncomfortable stares, before Kevin leans back onto his heels and places a blood-soaked sponge back in the bucket of soapy water. “Let’s not forget who asked who to help dispose of the body, because if I have to push back up to management I will.”

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