Nine tenths of the law

Tanner dropped like a hundred kilo bag of potatoes.

Annie wheeled round, brandishing the two by four.

His two brothers backed away, leaving me lying in sticky mud.

‘There’s no need to go crazy, Annie,’ Johnny said.

‘Crazy?  Crazy is trying to rob me of what’s rightfully mine!’

‘Ours,’ I mumbled through thick lips.

‘Rightfully yours?’ Mickie said.  ‘It fell off the back of a truck!’

‘Possession’s nine tenths of the law.  It fell into my hands, not yours.’

‘Our hands,’ I said.

‘What’s yours is mine,’ Annie said, then to the Tanners: ‘Now collect your idiot brother and vamoose.’


A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words