Pie

He bit into the pie.
It was exquisite. The pastry wasn't too soft or too hard. There wan't much jelly. The meat was unlike any other he'd tasted before. It was the perfect pie.
He wished he'd bought more of them.
That night he woke up at 4:30 with the worst stomach pain he'd ever experienced. It felt like he was being stabbed repeatedly. He had cold sweats and was burning up. The vomiting started soon after.
Diarrhoea came along next. He made it to the bathroom and passed out.
His cleaner arrived the following day and found him dead in a pool of his own shit, piss and chunder.

Taxi

"Been busy tonight, mate?"
The driver looked in his mirror at the man in the back. He was wearing an expensive suit and he'd picked him up at that fancy cocktail place in town. Clearly he had a good bit of money.
"Not too bad, steady away."
He wanted to tell the man to fuck off. Using stock questions to try and seem like one of the guys? That's what arseholes do, but he bit his lip.
"What time do you knock off?"
Now he waanted to pull over, get out and give the suit a good hiding. But a rich man might give a good tip, so he had to play along.
"Midnight, mate."
He turned into the road where the man wanted to be. Quite fancy houses around here.
"Just up here on the left, mate."
The taxi stopped.
"That's £7.80 please, mate."
The man in the suit dumped a mass of coins in the driver's hands.
"Keep the change, mate."
"Cheers."
He got out and disappeared into a house.
The driver counted it. He counted it again just to be sure. He'd been given £7.90. What a bastard.

Diagnosis

"Yes, that's what I think it is."
He had delivered his diagnosis. The patient wasn't pleased. She looked quite pale. Hardly surprising.
"Are you sure?" she asked.
"Absolutely. I've been doing this for a number of years."
"I would like a second opinion."
"Of course. Most do in your situation. They'll tell you the same thing though."
She left the doctor's office and sat in her car outside. She sobbed as she fumbled through her handbag for a packet of cigarettes.
This is it, she thought. Not long left.
She pulled out of the car park, puffing away on her last cigarette and knowing a hard left when she drove over the bridge would be enough to do the job.

The Deepest Sleep

He was fast asleep, the kind of unconscious sleep that usually follows a heavy drinking session, but he hadn't touched a drop. He had become a dead-to-the-world kind of sleeper in recent times for no reason he could explain.
He'd been asleep for ten hours now and his dog was sitting at the bottom of the bed on the carpet looking at him with its head tilted slightly to one side. The waiting was patient at first, but now there was a great deal of whining.
It was long past the time for a lap of the park and feeding time was fast approaching. If dogs were military generals, this one would have declared a red alert situation by now.
Four further hours passed and neither toilet nor food was happening.
The dog jumped on the bed and licked its master's face and barked several times.
Still he slept.
The dog jumped to the wrong conclusion and assumed his master was dead.
When the man eventually awoke four hours later he was in agony as most of the flesh from his left arm had been gnawed away.
His dog slept contentedly next to him.

Mug, Mug, Mug

"AAAARRRGGGHHHH!"
His anger was clear for all to see. People crossed over to the other side of the street, ushering children away from the seemingly crazy man.
He burst into the shop. People turned and stared at him. They stopped staring when they saw the rage in his eyes.
He finally got to the counter.
"COFFEE!" he barked.
"Is that a regular or large?" asked the barista as she chewed gum.
"COFFEE!" he screamed right into her face and poured coins all over the counter.
She served a large cup, correctly guessing that was what was required.
He downed it in one.
The redness drained from his face and he smiled.
"Thank you," he said quietly and left.

Good Neighbours

He stood and looked at the hedge. It was filling in nicely around the dead bit.
Of course he knew the dead part was no accident. The six-foot section mysteriously died only days after his neighbour complained it was blocking the light.
This is the neighbour who had a conservatory built without planning permission. A conservatory that on a sunny day reflected so much light that everyone with eyes was disturbed.
No, that fucker had poisoned the hedge.
It still made his blood boil just thinking about it.
His neighbour was on holiday now and it was time for revenge.
He climbed over the fence and dropped into his neighbour's garden, bag of tricks in hand.
It took less than an hour to completely cover the conservatory with black paint.

Power Cut

The family sat and watched TV after their dinner. The parents did at least. The two teenage boys were connected to their tablets: listening to music, messaging their friends, watching porn or whatever the hell they got up to with those things.
The room was plunged into darkness.
"Great," said Father and got up to check the electricity meter.
"What's happening?" asked son A.
"Power cut," said Mother.
"The neighbours are outside," said Father. "The whole street is out, by the look of it.
"What are we going to do?" asked son B.
"Wait for it to come back on."
"This is so unfair!" Son B stormed out of the room.
Son A picked up a book and started to read by candlelight.
The power returned half an hour later and he continued to read.