Last Chance (A Story Outside of Minnesota) Flash Fiction

Davis Morton, had befriended Tony Robbins, Tony’s father was a retired actor, who was now taking whatever kind of job he could, the golden days of movies were over for him, but in his heyday, he was very well known. Robbins, had found a job in Minneapolis, Minnesota, and Davis was from St. Paul, Minnesota, only a few miles apart, maybe four, a bridge spanning the Mississippi, separating the two men, both now friends, had become friends. met in a bar, and has been making friends for several months.

It was in the third week of September, they were in the Mall of America, when Davis, sitting on a bench, jokingly said:

“Could you get an autograph for my collection from your father?”

Robbins, looking at his friend with a strange tint, but with a half smile, the other half of his lower face, the other side showing a somewhat annoyed smile, shouted in a shrill voice,

“No we don’t, we don’t agree on things anymore!”

Davis said, compassionately, a sympathetic voice and to the point, “You have to reconcile with him, who knows what can happen in life, I never had a father, but if I did, I wouldn’t want to leave this.” earth wondering why I never tried.

During the process of young Davis giving advice to his friend, Johnny Langdon, a friend from his old neighborhood, passed by, one he hadn’t seen in years, was sent to prison, as far as Davis knew, some years ago. he said as he walked by,

“Trouble along the way,” and kept walking.

Then Thomas Redding, walked by, someone Davis didn’t know, but Langdon evidently did (perhaps friends in some kind of plan to take place at the mall, it would seem so, since there are a lot of burglars to walk around). the mall), they both listened to Robbins anyway, and Redding had apparently sided with Davis, stopped, sat down next to Robbins on the same bench as them, pulled out a thin, sharp knife, about four inches long. inches long, position it next to Robbins’s neck, ready to cut open or remove a portion of his flesh, wide-eyed, almost in a frozen posture, and almost simultaneously with Davis’s actions (but with Langdon asking,

“What are you doing with your right hand under your sweater?”

And Davis saying, “Nothing, my stomach hurts!”

But no less than a second or two after the knife went to Robbins’ neck, Davis pointed his .38 revolver at Langdon’s forehead and said:

“Drop the knife, now!”

Surprisingly, he did as asked, with a laugh, saying:

“I almost proved your point, Davis!”

And then Langdon got to his feet, Davis at the same time returning the knife to him.

A police officer had seen a portion of this and then hurriedly approached the incident, quickly asking why he had drawn his revolver and showing him his permit.

Said Robbins (as Davis was taking out his permit): “A stranger had pulled a knife on me, and if it wasn’t for my friend here, Davis, I might be dead, he’s questioning the wrong man, and to be honest, where were you when the point of the knife was next to my vein?

In other words, after the fact, and without the culprit, he was acting very bravely with the victims.

The police officer could no longer see the assailant’s head, but he quickly ran down the hall to find him. Robbins, just looked at Davis, as if to say: was this a coincidence or a hoax? Perhaps he was in shock, trying to piece together the moment, but Davis never said a word about it.

Written on 9-21-2008, in the morning (from a dream)