By Prospero Dae
Man, did they give him a good working over. Though he was the brawny type, even by stevedoring standards, he was no match for four men in olive coats intending on beating him to an inch of his life. It was an ugly ballet of blood and teeth and steel-toed boots to the spleen.
The four men turned apocalyptically and headed gateward. The sailor, given up for dead, reached into his rucksack and groped for something—his gun, maybe? And with the modicum of strength still in his bloodied hand, he crushed a tin can and out came green, leafy spinach.
Love it. Some of the sentences bulge like Popeye’s biceps. I particularly liked: “It was an ugly ballet of blood and teeth and steel-toed boots to the spleen.”
My biggest concern was the “four men in olive coats”. Not a reference to Popeye’s beloved I hope!
Nice. You got me!
I’m a big fan(and writer) of clever twists so that was a lot of fun. Great job!
This story is a mixture of Mike Hammer, P. I., and Popeye. Great little bit of humor, as well as some excellent imagery!
I think I would love to see four men in olive coats turn apocalyptically….
My thought exactly. But how else are four horsemen to turn?