Requirements are to include at least three of Jeff's nine chosen words in a 150 word piece. Including at least one thing, verb and adjective. However...trying something different from my usual prosey pieces, I got them all in, thus qualifying for Overachiever, 'twas fun, but you'll have to tell me if it works!
Photo by Lisa Shambrook (please do not use without permission)
The Fridge leaned against the bars, obscuring daylight from the cell. Fingers, (yes, that’s how original names were here) rapped his digits on the table behind Errol. Errol, in turn, balanced on his tremulous legs. Fear, dread, anxiety…discomfort, the whole gamut whirled as he moved gingerly across the room.
Fingers murmured and Errol could barely hear him, “Keep this ‘ere quiet boy…don’t want no bruiting ‘bout this…you hear?” Errol couldn’t hear; his obstreperous heart pounded like the proverbial jackhammer.
The Fridge held up his finger, staring at the postern jail gate, and Errol paused, his legs spraddled wide. Errol gurned and squeezed his buttocks.
The Fridge’s hand dropped. Fingers glared at the table, at the kludge of bits and pieces, and then stared expectantly at Errol. Errol dropped his trousers and released a pained ululating sound.
Fingers smiled as a small screwdriver dropped with a clink. “Copacetic Errol, done good!”