He detailed the dispensation of every finger. Bones. Major organs. Where to bury his eyes — a Malibu beach. For years I kept Marty on ice. Years. Who knew Marty had that sort of testament?

Marty was more than a snitch. He was family. A last request is a brother’s duty.

3 Things About This Micro-fiction

1. Strangely enough I find organized crime makes for dull prose. Even the motivations are cliche.
2. It’s all about the whacking. Dysfunctional families who whack.
3. So I don’t really like this piece. But I haven’t the heart to bury it.