Frostbite

But Not Before They Are Hanged

"You'd look absolutely terrible in that hat."

Peter turned to her, affronted. "I would rock the hell out of that hat!"

"You know yellow's not your color, right?"

"My school blazer's yellow and I think I look pretty snazzy in it."

"They got you walkin' 'round like the king of Del Monte? What the hell are they doin' to you kids these days?" Granny Sal smacked her lips as they wandered away from the store front window. "Reminds me of Al. You know my sister Al? She's got this big ugly coat she got off this pimp lookin' motherfucker years and years ago. Real fur that keeps you warm from the thick collar 'round her neck all the way down to her knobbly-ass knees. She'll wear that thing every day you can call winter even when she's out and about in those velour tracksuits like they ain't been out of fashion the last thirty years. That's why we call her Blind Al."

"I think Wade told me once that she's like, actually blind."

"Oh yeah. Couldn't pick out a red sock out of a load of whites." She nodded as she hiked her purse up on her shoulder. "But that ain't no excuse to walk around like you are."

bristle

Peter laughed, stuffing his hands in his hoodie pockets as they meandered down the street. The overcast skies made the day feel colder than it really was and they were on their way to work, really! But he'd stopped by Delmar's for a snack before work and bumped into Granny Sal just as she was stepping out of the cleaner's, and here they were. Looking at hats she didn't believe he totally could pull off.

He took another bite of his sandwich and chewed. "Did you see that text Mr. Weasel sent out about the merc influx we're going to get in the next few weeks?"

"I saw the order list. That's a lot of boxes of chicken wings you're gonna have to haul into the freezer."

"And a lot of buffalo sauce you're going to have to whip up for them." They stopped at a crosswalk, and he subconsciously moved the old woman away from a puddle. "Any chance I'll finally convince you to give me the recipe?"

"Do you see me in my Sunday best cozied up in the coffin of my dreams?"

He held out an elbow for her to take as the corner grouped up with more people. "I'll wear you down before you're dead. I can be particularly annoying if I want to be, five star guarantee."

prickle

The orange hand dimmed for the walking guy to brighten, and Peter steered them away from the most obvious path to the bar. He kept count of how the bodies around them thinned out and just how much longer they had to walk, and a split second decision had him turning towards a system of darkened alleys. The sooner they got down to it, the better.

"Can't be that annoying if you haven't tasted the butt of my ladle," she said. She lifted his hand to pat the back of it. "Who's out there callin' you annoying? Let me know 'cause they won't be ready for what I still got packin'."

"An extra mean swing?"

"Well that too."

PRICKLE

He rubbed the back of his neck, pretending he was massaging sore muscles. "Hey, actually, do you want to go on ahead? I think I left my wallet back at Delmar's and I'll need it before school tomorrow."

"Sweet pea, you could lose an apple in an orchard."

"Wow. Okay. Totally uncalled for—"

spike

Peter angled himself just to the front corner of Granny Sal and took the full brunt of a sideways strike. A grunt burst from his lips as cold metal rang against his shoulder blade and he braced an arm over his head as a second something careened down against it, aiming for his head.