The Comeback
A fictional short story.
‘Shoaff! Come out and face me like a real man!’
Lori Linden, AKA the Duchess of Death, waits for me to enter the scene, spitting insult after insult, twirling her dagger with expert precision, slicing the air with more than is necessary gusto. I wonder how much she practiced, leading up to this day.
By this point I’m sweating bullets. It’s the running and the ducking, the weaving between ferry bench seats, dodging her throwing knives that has me worked up. That’ll do it.
Not only are my foe and I fighting one another, we’re fighting the violent up and down dipping and rising of the ferry on uneven waters.
‘Thought you were Jimmy The Wolf? Or is your bark bigger than your bite?’ she asks.
I call out. ‘It’s James Shoaff to you! Only my friends get to call me The Wolf.’
The lights switch off on queue. Enough darkness to risk a quick glance below deck.
Lori spins around, anticipating an attack. ‘You think you can even the score after our date in Shanghai?’ she mocks with a sneer. ‘Tell me James, how is your wife?’
Three… two… one.
I hurdle the second floor ferry railing, landing on all fours, keeping my head down with a spray of water splashing across my front, the fan blows my golden dyed locks away from my face. I raise my head slowly, hoping to sprinkle about a dash of that typical Shoaff bravado. And to be honest, I’m hoping nobody can see me for real — the middle-aged man in a bit of pain.
The old knees don’t bend like they used to.
It’s your time for a comeback they said, early retirement doesn’t suit you they argued, the President insisted you give the USA the fairytale ending we all deserved.
Lori burst forward, dagger ready for a jab. I jump up, blocking her advance, stamping my left foot down onto the wooden deck. Except…
‘Holy mother of hell! You got my actual foot you idiot!’
‘Sorry.’ I apologised profusely, but I don’t think this up-and-coming starlet will accept it.
‘CUT!’ The Director, Billy, announces from across the deck with his megaphone in one hand, and what looks like a ham sandwich in the other. ‘Walk it off Sadie! Let’s take five everyone. Brian!’ he points at me with the sandwich. ‘Get over here, we need to talk about a stunt double.’
