FAST FICTION _ FLIMFLAM

‘A whisky, please.’
‘Coming up sir.’
‘I needed that.’
‘That’ll be £5 please sir.’
‘Damn. No money. I need to pop to the cash machine round the corner.’
‘I need payment sir or I’ll lose my job. For all I know you might just hot-foot it out of here.’
‘Tell you what, let me leave these coins here as collateral. They’re old. I think they might be worth something. I’ll be right back.’
‘Where did you get these coins? They’re worth a fortune. I’ll give you £50,000 for them.’
‘No can do sir. I’m just looking after them for someone.’
‘Well, when he comes back give him this card and ask him to ring me.’
‘There. I told you I’d be right back. Now, what do I owe you?’
‘Excuse me. I’m a numismatist. I couldn’t help but notice those coins. They’re quite valuable. I could give you £20,000 for them.’
‘You’re joking! It’s my lucky day. You have a deal.’
Money changes hands and another greedy man loses his shirt, robbed by a flimflam that’s as old as the hills. I say nothing. I’m just the bartender. I’m not paid to notice stuff. But I do.
200 words

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