By Louis Kummerer
Local ne’er-do-well Charles Winston-Smythe steps out of the Ritz-Carlton and into his Austin-Healy. He eases the car onto SR-101. With a devil-may-care disregard for rules, he immediately shifts into pedal-to-the-metal mode.
Officer Al-Hakim, seated on his Harley-Davidson, clocks him at 138 and chases him into a nearby cul-de-sac.
Winston-Smythe studies the ticket.
“My name is spelled S-M-Y-T-H-E,” he says, “And I was only doing 101. That cheap-ass Word-o-Matic meter you bought from some fly-by-night distributor obviously isn’t picking up hyphens.”
Al-Hakim hits the meter’s self-diagnosis button.
“Son-of-a-gun!” he exclaims.
“I bid you fare-thee-well,” Winston-Smythe half-smiles, half-smirks, as he restarts the Austin-Healy.
Read this one with a mind for the word limit at 101 Words.
Clever. A sort of meta-flash.
Loved the story. Such a great use of hyphens.
Love it. Very meta.
Don’t get it. Also ne’er-do-wells don’t drive Austins. The word means, basically, “loser.”