Blind Eye

Fidget the Rottweiler lumbered out to the garage door and thumped himself down in the sunshine. He was huge. And unlike the McLeods' second-hand Alsation, Fidget definitely looked as if he could outrun an out-of-shape Detective Sergeant. And then eat him.


'I am a professional,' he told the bedside lamp, 'I promise I will not sulk.'

Like hell he wouldn't.

He dragged himself through the shower and down to breakfast, disappointed to see that Jaroszewicz was already there, tucking into another bowl of muesli. For a brief moment he thought about giving her the cold shoulder and grabbing another table, but he'd made a promise to his besides furniture.


What was the collective noun for nuns? Flange? Flock?

Logan watched as they stopped to harangue a young man for dropping his McDonald's wrapper on the path. The guy held out for a whole thirty seconds, before grabbing up the wrapper and hurrying away to the nearest bin.

A Terror of nuns.

- "Blind Eye" by Stuart MacBride
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