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Weekly Contest #370
Billy grabbed the drunken young man by the collar of his coat and pushed him out the club’s door. The young wee man was ranting and raving, shouting even. Most of it was slurred and incoherent. “You fucking gorilla bastard ye,” growled the wee fella. “I’m gonna... get ye sacked...” Billy sighed, a resigned look on his face. The wee fella kept speaking. Yet somehow the voice seemed more distant and quieter, like under water. Perhaps Billy had finally mastered the art of stoicism, drowning out outside noise. Perhaps not, said a voice from his ...
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