Singapore Snore
Traveling Flash Fiction
The drunk man with the cock drawn on his head had to go, of course. Not only had he refused to pay for the rice wine he’d requested and gulped in quick succession, but he’d also made some crude observations about the owner’s daughter’s bits and pieces. The fact that the cock man didn’t know she was the owner’s daughter was irrelevant. When they kicked him out into the hot Singapore night, he was outraged, by some warped logic. So a bouncer by the name of Chan plucked an overhead lantern from where it appeared to hover over the alleyway, plunged it onto the cock man’s head, and threw a punch that shattered his nose.
The cock man awoke the next morning, roused not by the scent of roasting duck or the aroma of petrol mixed with manky humidity, but by nostrils filled with dried, salty blood and shattered cartilage.
