Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)
This is the Doctrine’s contribution to the Six Sentence Story bloghop.
Hosted by Denise defined by it’s numerical eponymous title.
Prompt word:
TYPE
“And, no, you do not know my type… idiot.”
“I’d respond with the obvious interrogative challenging your patently specious assertion, however, given the rap sheet I’ve been privy to, you’ve some impulse control issues; shall we agree to disagree?”
The tall, thin man stared at the young woman with the air of abstract fascination common to old anthropologists and young morticians; deciding a smile would unfairly provoke her, he pulled out a chair from the first circle of tables across from the bar and, sitting, smiled.
Rosetta Storme shook her head unselfconsciously, her eyes struggled to keep up, instinctively searching her surroundings for threats and predators; in the nearly empty Six Sentence Café & Bistro, she tried and failed to negotiate a compromise with the maelstrom in her head, so, without preface swiveled on her barstool, bringing her full armament to bear on the Proprietor.
“Wanna know what Lou told me, the first time we met?”
“Not particularly,” both the tall, thin man and young woman burst into laughter; the former because he knew the answer, the latter because she believed he didn’t.