"Hello, bone man" snickered a boy in his late teens. Behind him, his friends laughed.
"Hello, walking toothpick," Joe retorted. The laughing stopped, the boy gritted his teeth.
"Yo, you can't be doing that, only I can"
"Sure, and I'm a genie, sorry kid I'm not about to grant you your three wishes."
Joe turned away from the group and kept walking: he had a job to do, it wouldn't complete itself.
He felt the thunk of a rock on the back of his skull. He kept walking.
Another thunk.
Then another.
Joe whipped around, his hollow eyes glaring daggers.
"I don't have time for your games, I don't have time for your nuisance riden presence, I've no time for your childish behavior. So either you get your butts moving or I force you to move. I have a job to do and you only slow me down." He seethed.
The boys blinked, the threat would shake anyone to their core, yet in the face of that, the main boy took a step away from the wall, held his fist in the air, and stared back at Joe.
Seconds felt like minutes, minutes felt like hours as two opposing stubbornness clashed.
Eventually, the boy was dragged away, his friends were getting uncomfortable in the silence.
After that, Joe didn't really calm down, though, to be honest, he was never considered a calm person.
Rumors about him spread like wildfire.
Some said he was a killer.
Others said he was not to be trusted.
And few said there was something deeper.
He didn't have time to care, work had to be done, for it wouldn't complete itself.
YOU ARE READING
A Dead Man Who Held A Shovel
ActionDead Man Joe is a character of mine and I sorta just felt like putting some snips of his story over here, this isn't in chronological order and is deferent events that have happened in Joe's life. Feel free to read, or don't your choice.
