Mr. Big lounged on the vinyl and watched Trixie’s lazy wind-up.
Tiny peck on the dome, seismic butt wiggle. Skitter, swing, release.
Lucky persimmon shot like hot lava down the slick alley.
Her shriek shrill over the clatter of pins.
“Yeah, Trixie baby.” Damn, he loved his wife’s strike.
He was up.
A true story in 52 words for the Shapeshifting 13 over at Grammar Ghoul Press.
