Brief Musings of a Drunken Mind: Short Works of Fiction

By C. Coy Moore

Love. Happiness. Family. Money. Morals. Murder. Mischief. These are only a few things that we can experience during a lifetime. Many people find many different paths to take. Right and wrong are only applied by relevance and perspective. One man's justice is another's stone cold murder. Love can be cruel and money unfulfilling. Solace can be found in trying to do the best with what you are given; rolling the dice and seeing what you come up with. Life does not come with an itinerary or an instruction manual. Humans are free will machines who roll with the punches and deal with the consequences - and we would not have it any other way. Brief Musings on a Drunken Mind Explores a variety of scenarios, personas, and psyches in an ever-elusive attempt to find out what makes people tick. To try to come to terms with who we are and just why we do the things that we do.

• Language: English
• Publisher: C. Coy Moore
• Release date: Mar 29, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311959140

C. Coy Moore

My name is Christopher Moore. I go by the pen name C. Coy Moore. I am from Ashevile, North Carolina, where I currently live. In October 2014, I will graduate from Full Sail University with a B.F.A. in Creative Writing for Entertainment. I have previously published a collection of short stories and am currently trying to publish my first full novel.

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Brief Musings of a Drunken Mind

Short Works of Fiction

By

C. Coy Moore

Copyright 2014 C. Coy Moore

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Table of Contents

The Last Gig

Freestyle Interpretations

The Linchpin

Steak and Potatoes

What’s in a Name?

Lottery Ticket

Safe Haven

The White Witch

Late Payments

Sunday Afternoon Vengeance

Just the Ticket

Author’s Bio

The Last Gig

Oh. My. God. This is all that is running through Silvia Lux’s mind as her driver is weaving in and out of traffic. It’s nine o’ clock in the morning and Silvia is feeling particularly ornery this morning. Partially due to the fact that she only got about two hours of sleep because of frequent and infuriating trips to the bathroom but also mostly due to the fact that she really can’t believe she’s going to another photo shoot.

Silvia has been in the business for over six decades and the business has been good to her. Her husband, too, who happens to be her agent. Or was anyway before his failing hearing and budding dementia took him out of the game. Since Carl’s retirement Silvia has been bringing home the bacon in an attempt to save up for the trip around the world that they have been saving for since they were newly weds. And she’s almost got it! Just a few more months and they can set sail.

Getting through those last few months, however, may prove to be challenging for Silvia. The gigs that she has been able to book for the past while have been, well, they have down right weird. Where as she was once a highly sought after model posing for everything from lingerie to cocktail dresses, Silvia now finds herself at the mercy of whatever oddity magazine is in the market for a regal looking but, let’s face it, older woman.

The last photo shoot she had a few weeks ago was Farmer’s Digest Weekly where she posed in plaid and overalls, petting a turkey that was feeding from a bowl of quinoa. When Silvia politely asked what quinoa was she was met with snickers before the portly photographer answered that it was a type of grain. Also, the turkey bit her hand. Not Silvia’s best day. The shoot before that she was breaking an icicle from a gutter using a grabbing stick thingy designed to help old people in The Senior Quarterly. Before that she spent nine hours trying to get the perfect shot of her hugging a man dressed up as the cookie monster for a magazine that was just called Weird.

Silvia sighs then shakes her head, muttering oh my god aloud as she does.

Ma’am?

Charles, Silvia’s driver, is eyeing her in the rearview mirror. As usual he is wearing his black driving hat and dark driving glasses, making it very hard for Silvia to see is face, which she has never liked.

Oh, nothing, Charles.

Silvia waves him off with a flick of her wrist. She didn’t want a driver but Carl insisted that they hire one if she was going to continue to work as her eyesight and reflexes are declining along with her looks. Silvia resigns herself to staring out of her window for the duration of the drive until something catches her eyes.

Oh, oh, oh. Charles, stop the car! The elation in her voice is evident and a few seconds following her outburst the car is in park at the curb with Silvia fondling the door handle in an attempt to race outside.

We’re going to be late, ma’am.

Hush it, Charles. You know I need my sweets.

On the street, Silvia is rummaging through her mammoth purse at the newspaper stand, already holding up two or three other people in line.

What can I get you, lady? The fat, sweaty man in the stand asks with much less respect in his tone than Silvia likes. But she decides to ignore it.

That, she says, simply pointing at what she desires.

The fat, sweaty man gives her a questioning look but hands her the box without comment, telling her that it’s going to cost her two dollars and fifty cents. Silvia hands him three dollars and scowls, telling him to keep the change. Back in the car, Charles is doing his quieted version of huffing and puffing.

What did you choose this morning?

Silvia peels back a sliver of the cardboard on the box then dumps a piece of the contents into her hand, showing Carl a big, bright blue Gobstopper candy.

"You know, ma’am, it’s only