Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)

This is the Wakefield Doctrine’s contribution to the Six Sentence Story bloghop.

Denise is the host and places only one requirement on us: the story is to be exactly six sentences in length.

The prompt word:

MESS

“Clean this mess up else we’ll all end up in jail.”

“What? Did you think we Proprietors don’t enjoy listening to oldies?”

The tall, thin man tipped himself from a half-recline against the main bar in the Six Sentence Café & Bistro and, holding his phone with two hands, finger-tutted the volume down from: ‘You might want to make an appointment with your otologist’ to ‘oh, so you were trying to speak to me’.

The Sophomore stood, right hand on a sun-warped stack of out-of-date copies of ‘The Watchtower’ covering half of the top of the cigarette machine in the vestibule: leaning cautiously into the eternal evening of the Bistro, “No, man, I was just surprised to find myself here, for a second there, hearing Fagan’s voice, wasn’t sure where,” drawing closer to the man at the bar, amended, “when I was, ya know?”

“Too well, young exile, all too well,” the Proprietor, more formally dressed than normal, rotated on the bar stool a non-verbal welcome and invitation to sit, “The coast is clear for the moment, but then I don’t need to tell you, the river of time is available to all and controllable by none.”

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