The wombat escaped the soup,
and here came Straight Razor Silvio
like a cyclone of nasty secrets.
Walking up to strangers
along the inner harbour and
whispering: “Gut check time.”
Slashing open a young couple first,
right across the belly so that all the mess
of it fell out.
Then he stood there,
quizzically examining the innards
as if searching for something.
Next, was this old timer fishing off the dock.
“Gut check time,” the words snuck up behind him.
Silvio dug the straight razor in and pulled.
The old man spilled out like a meaty waterfall.
Silvio checked the offering, then noticed
a few fish in a green bucket.
He slashed open the fish to have a look
at them as well.
People were still paying their taxes,
so the response time from the boys in blue
wasn’t too shabby.
“Gut check time,”
Straight Razor Silvio raised his blade
and rushed the badges.
They emptied their chambers on him.
Smoke coming out of Straight Razor Silvio’s
crumpled body from all the hot lead.
The horn dog mayor wanted answers and interns.
And not necessarily in that order.
.
Ryan Quinn Flanagan
Picture Nick Victor
.