Written for the Daily Flash Fiction Challenge with a word limit of 300.
The prompts: Story must be about buying a house
Housing Slump
“Now about the body in the master bedroom …” Tony said as he carefully tried to gauge his bargaining position. This was his dream home. Perfect location, beautiful landscaping and most importantly, it was priced to move quickly. The previous owner, Guido the Knife, had taken a ride on the magic carpet. Unfortunately for him, it had been rolled up in the trunk of a car at the bottom of a lake at the time.
Silence hung in the room like a thick cloud. Both parties were aware of the old adage, “Whoever speaks first loses.”
Finally Sandy broke the silence. She tried to be nonchalant about the whole issue. “The cleaning crew told me they would get to the back rooms as soon as they finish with the kitchen.”
He had her now. Tony could see the flicker of desperation in her eyes. She needed this sale more than he needed the house. It was time to press home his advantage. Scratching his chin doubtfully, he walked over to the living room wall and poked his finger into one of the numerous bullet holes lined up there.
“Tisk, tisk, tisk,” he said shaking his head; a sideways glance from beneath a raised eyebrow sent his message home to the agent; silently saying What more can you do for me?
Sandy could see her profit margin slipping away, one upgrade at a time. This housing slump was really starting to get to her. Now she was reduced to selling mafia estates to bottom feeders like Tony over there in his Hawaiian shirt, shorts and black socks. If she could just keep him out of the basement until after the sale closed. The CSI crew said the smell down there would begin to go away in a year or two.
The prompts: Story must be about buying a house
Housing Slump
“Now about the body in the master bedroom …” Tony said as he carefully tried to gauge his bargaining position. This was his dream home. Perfect location, beautiful landscaping and most importantly, it was priced to move quickly. The previous owner, Guido the Knife, had taken a ride on the magic carpet. Unfortunately for him, it had been rolled up in the trunk of a car at the bottom of a lake at the time.
Silence hung in the room like a thick cloud. Both parties were aware of the old adage, “Whoever speaks first loses.”
Finally Sandy broke the silence. She tried to be nonchalant about the whole issue. “The cleaning crew told me they would get to the back rooms as soon as they finish with the kitchen.”
He had her now. Tony could see the flicker of desperation in her eyes. She needed this sale more than he needed the house. It was time to press home his advantage. Scratching his chin doubtfully, he walked over to the living room wall and poked his finger into one of the numerous bullet holes lined up there.
“Tisk, tisk, tisk,” he said shaking his head; a sideways glance from beneath a raised eyebrow sent his message home to the agent; silently saying What more can you do for me?
Sandy could see her profit margin slipping away, one upgrade at a time. This housing slump was really starting to get to her. Now she was reduced to selling mafia estates to bottom feeders like Tony over there in his Hawaiian shirt, shorts and black socks. If she could just keep him out of the basement until after the sale closed. The CSI crew said the smell down there would begin to go away in a year or two.
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