Lord Breck threw his head back and laughed, “Mwa-hahahahahahahahahahahahaha! Triumph is mine! Allll MIIIIIIINE! MWA-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” He cleared his throat. “And now I shall monologue about my diabolical plan.” He waggled his finger. “No falling asleep now.” He gripped his lapels and strutted around Vince. “It all started when I was four years old and my older brother wouldn’t let me play with dynamite. It wasn’t fair. We had ever so much dynamite in the house. Why couldn’t I play with it? I didn’t even want that many. Just two sticks, but no. He refused to give me even one. The unfairness of it broke my young heart and steeled my soul to humanity’s plight. That’s when I decided that I would not be a slave to society’s whims and wishes. I would not be a functioning member of the moral disaster we call society. I would rise above it all. I would become my own society.”
“Huh? That’s just dumb.”
Lord Breck stopped in front of him. “Oh, really? You know what’s truly dumb? This whole conversation.” He pointed his gun at Vince’s forehead. “You don’t deserve to know the rest of my wondrous plan.” He pulled the trigger.
Vince died without even a gasp.
“And now? You’re dead.” He threw his head back again and laughed. “Victory is mine. ALLLLLLLLL MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE! MWA-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!”
A gunshot rang out.
Lord Breck felt a sharp pain in his back. It stole his breath. He fell to the floor, gasping for breath.
A man walked up to him.
“Vince? But you’re dead. I just killed you. You’re dead.”
“No. That was my twin brother, Mincemeat.”
“Stop. Just stop right there.”
I cringed at the familiar voice. I looked up from my computer screen.
Sure enough, a man with slicked back hair, wire-rimmed glasses, and a perpetually sour expression stood before me.
“My expression wouldn’t be perpetually sour if you didn’t make so many rookie mistakes.” said my Internal Editor.
I slumped back in my chair and folded my arms across my chest. “Now what did I do wrong?”
He scoffed. “I’m surprised you even have to ask.” He came over to my side of the desk and tapped on my computer screen. “This line right here.”
I reluctantly sat up. “Which one?”
“This one here.”
I read the line out loud, “‘Vince? But you’re dead. I just killed you. You’re dead.’ What’s wrong with that?”
He clicked his tongue at me. “Nothing, except this here.” He tapped my screen again. “See this? It says here that he can’t breathe. He’s gasping for breath.”
“So, how does he have enough breath to say ten words? Try saying that line while gasping for breath. It isn’t possible. You’d be lucky to get two words out.”
“But I needed to show the reveal—”
“Oh, that leads to Point Number Two.”
I mentally cringed. It was never a good day when he verbally capitalized his points.
“Where did this twin come from?”
“From Vince’s mother, duh?”
He pulled a giant back of Reeses’ peanut butter cups out of the right pocket of his tweed suit jacket.
I was about to comment on the incongruousness of that bag fitting in a pocket that small, but then he swatted the back of my head with the bag. “Ooff!”
“I’m asking a serious question. I do not appreciate flippancy.”
“Fine. Mincemeat was there all along. Just kind of hiding in the shadows.”
He scoffed. “Hiding very well and no. That is not a compliment. If you’re going to have a magical twin appear out of nowhere, you have to build it up. You have to make it reasonable. You have to make it feel unexpected and inevitable. You have to do it right.”
I did not like where this was going. “So, what? Do I just delete Mincemeat?”
He read the whole chapter over again. “No. I think we can let him survive. But.” He looked at me and the computer light glinted off his glasses in an ominous fashion. “You will have to do a massive rewrite.”
I cringed all over. “I thought you’d say that. Darn you.”
“You’ll thank me later. Go back to the first chapter. Let’s see how we can fix this.”
February 2019 Writing Prompts