Three Pence Each
He set three empty bottles on a counter he couldn’t see over. Each carried a three pence refundable deposit.
‘I’d like a Rocket Icy Pole please; from the bottle money.’ He spoke with confidence; he had rehearsed.
Old Clarence stared from beneath verandah eyebrows. ‘Where’d you get the bottles boy, your mother never buys soft drinks.’
‘A red one please.’
‘I reckon you stole those bottles from the crate out back. I reckon you’re a thief, boy.’ Old Clarence slammed his fist on the counter and one of the bottles toppled.
The boy watched it fall; then turned and ran.
About the author
Gayle loves her family, dogs, sunsets and chocolate. Her stories appear in anthologies, including Award Winning Australian Writing 2009 and 2012, Mosaic, The Umbrella’s Shade and Vegemite Whiskers. She has placed in Australian and international competitions and tweets very short stories on twitter @GayleBeveridge. More about Gayle at http://www.ficklefictioncom