Jake Salts had a face like a bulldog given a swift kick to the balls and a temperament twice as mean. The cell door opened, the local sergeant filling the frame.
‘More like prison.’
‘Didn’t do nothing.’ Prone to bouts of deep melancholy and unholy tempers Bulldog led a mostly solitary existence on a dilapidated small holding.
‘Threatening behaviour. Again.’
‘They were on my land.’ His prime entertainment was chasing startled walkers from his fields, waving a shotgun and hurling obscenities.
‘Matters to me!’
‘This scene is getting tired, Jake. Like a dog with three legs.’
A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words