Instalment Ninety

“We have a corpse to dismmmmember.”

Trouble and Woe never walked anywhere. They sauntered, swaggered and strutted.

Even so, to stroll into the roughest bar in the city crowing their dirty work was a new low, or high, for them.

All eyes in the bar examined their drinks, as if they had never seen a domestic beer before and suddenly needed to understand exactly what it contained.

There was a cough and a chair leg squealed as someone shifted uncomfortably.

“Mister, we ain’t looking for no problems here,” said the bartender.

“You’re new,” chuckled Woe, “because you’ve got Trouble right here.”

“I’ll do it,” Misery called from the back of the bar, emerging from the bathroom.

Wherever Trouble and Woe went, Misery was never far behind.

Misery loved company, which was a shame for poor Misery as no one wanted to be in Misery’s company. Misery wasn’t their friend, Misery was Trouble and Woe’s wake, anyone left bobbing behind found their head held under by Misery.

“Out in the car,” Woe said to Misery, indicating to the door with a nod of the head.

“You looking at me?” Trouble screamed at a nearby drinker, who was not looking for Trouble.