Flash fiction in the form of a sonnet—by Paul Burgess
He asked, “You got the stuff?” I told him, “Yes,”
And wondered whether doing this was right.
“My friend, I expected nothing less,”
He said with eyes I had never seen so bright.
Examining the tooth I had procured,
He held it gently in a flattened palm—
Oblivious to the stress I had endured.
I hated seeing him remain so calm.
“When night arrives it’s time to start the fun,”
He whispered and reviewed again our plan:
“As she removes the pillow, draw the gun,
And growl as coldly as you can:
‘You need to kneel and afterwards to freeze.’
I’ll take her money once she’s on her knees.”