The Bomb-maker was enjoying a warm cup of coffee, when there was an explosion from their lab.
The Bomb-maker didn’t jump an inch. Nor was a spill of warm coffee spilt. The Bomb-maker took a measured sip from their meticulously-prepared coffee. Delicious, as always. The Bomb-maker placed the cup down on the saucer. Waited for the clink. (Clink!) Stood up from their chair, and calmly put one foot in front of the other.
The Bomb-maker arrived at their lab. They bypassed the handprint, voice, and eye scans with a single well-timed snap of the finger, and went inside. They descended two levels of stairs and went into a closed-off hallway. They then bypassed that hallway’s soul print scan with a wink and opened the door hidden on its right.
The Bomb-maker flicked a switch and the light came on. “Explain yourselves.” they said, in perfect monotone.
The Bomb-maker’s Bombs let go of each other’s detonators.
“We were just practicing.” they both said, not looking at the Bomb-maker in the eye.
|Originally written: April 09, 2020
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Choice Cuts
Short StorySweetest Decay, Series 1 A collection of my short stories I first published in my writing blog, Sweet Decay.
