Short Story

"Hey!"

"Hi. How are you?" said steve, member of the Bank of America planning and commissioning board.

Steve reached into the front pocket of his 3-piece-suit jacket, pulled out a crack pipe and lit it. he sucked on one end the other lit up, fire burning the small rock he bummed from the prostitute he visited an hour ago. The smoke filled his lungs, choking out the oxygen. he exhaled.

"im good, im good. where it is?" said pablo. a run down landscaper, with sun worn skin taunt on his face like a deer skin drying on a skin board. 

Steve pulled out the stash. 40 dimes worth of dope and threw it on the table. in his other hand the weight of his .44 made the handle of his pistol hit the wooden table top with a thud.

"Money?" steve asked. 

Pablo looked behind his back. reached into the front pocket of his worn levis and pulled out 10k. 

"Look man its all i got. my family needs food, my car needs--"

the hammer fell on steve pistols, triggering a concluded blast that rang out only in steves small apartment. Pablo looked down to see a hole in his abdomen. he looked up and fell over.

steve stood up from the office chair he was seated in. walked around the four legged card table and stepped over pablo. 

"Thats why you take care of the needs first my little mexican" steve said.

Steve took a step to the door. turned his torso around and finished pablo off with a bullet in the head. 

-----

Steve woke up drenched in a sticky red mess. he looked around and saw 5 or 6 men grouped around him like a huddle. body parts strewn across his bed like puzzle pieces. on the pillow next to him was pablo's head.

"the man you killed last night owed us 100 dimes my friend." said the stockiest of the group. he had  pair of elton john sunglasses on and bowlers hat. there was a thin mustache that crawled on his top lip and a goatee that rode all the way down to his adams apple. his nose was big. his ears were big. and his hands were left in the pockets of his jeans.

"i think you need to rethink who kill,.... business man." said the stocky one.

the group of men left in a shuffle out steves front door. 

later that day steve took out a loan for 100,000 thousand dollars at the same bank he worked at.

"THIS IS THE THIRD TIME THIS MONTH STEVE, HOW DO YOU SPEND ALL THIS MONEY?" yelled the loan clerk with round rimless glasses. 

"... its simple" steve said. "i didnt take of my needs."