Falconer, the infamous detective, lit the Cigarette of Victory with relish. “Indeed,” he intoned, “I was shot three times in what we professionals term ‘the crotchal region’ by the suspect. Nonetheless I was able to disarm, overpower and briefly tamper with him before your timely arrival.”
“But how,” said the policewoman, “did you survive being shot in…?”
“This old thing?” Falconer said, pointing to his groin. “I had it replaced with something altogether more resilient and commodious years ago. You’re a pretty one, aren’t you? Very pretty.”
The sound of tiny motors and telescoping steel purred from Falconer’s lap.
SPARKLINES: ideas under 100 words. © Warren Ellis 2010