Are there any rhymes or sayings about Wednesday? None come to mind yet here it is Wednesday once again and time for new words. Iffy had lots of fun with last week’s Thursday Threads prompt: **“That one may be true.”** She immediately danced around my writing cave and chortled. “Ronan!” she shouted at the top of her lungs. “Mick is going to tell an anecdote about them as boys. In front of Maura. And this is what came out after I stopped typing. I hope you enjoy the snippet.
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Conversation flowed as free as the Guinness streaming from bar taps. The men seemed intent on telling the tallest tale but it was Mick who hushed the table. In fact, the whole bar took a collective breath and listened.

“Now granted, I was but a wee lad m’self and Ronan not much older. There we were at the green grocer’s, shirtails full of purloined apples. One of Boston’s finest had me by the collar and then I was free. Someone had beaned him square in the forehead and knocked him right out.”

The story got a round of derisive comments.

“That one may be true,” Ronan said quietly.

Maura stared at him. Was he serious? She didn’t know him well enough to even make a guess. Relying on the instincts she’d honed in the courtroom, she asked, “May be? Are you hedging your bets?”

“I’m not a gamblin’ man, especially when I’m sittin’ next to an assistant district attorney.”

She laughed. She couldn’t help herself. “Trust me, the statute of limitations have run on a petty larceny.”

Mick chimed in. “But what about the assault with a deadly weapon?”

“I’d hardly consider an apple a deadly weapon.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Mick counterd. “But that copper? Knocked him on his arse and clean out with a concussion to boot. He’s never forgiven us for that.”

Maura’s eyes widened. “He’s still on the force?”

“Aye,” Ronan said. “He’s a homicide cop now.”

“Please don’t tell me it’s Alan Bragg.”

“Then I won’t.”

After a few moments, he reached over and closed her mouth with a gentle tap beneath her chin.

“So what happened after?” Shannon asked, drawing attention back to Mick and his story.

“’Tis the first time we met himself. Brian Boru walked up and told Ronan he should grow up to pitch for the Red Sox but he’d be workin’ for Brian instead because he was always on the lookout for enterprisin’ young lads. He handed a hundred dollar bill to the grocer and hustled us out of the shop before the cop could wake up.”

“And?” Shannon pushed. “He just took you both under his wings?”

“He did,” Ronan said. “After he made us eat every bit of those apples.”

Mick made a gagging face. “In one sittin’. Neither of us can stand the taste of the bloody things to this very day.”
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Yes, I do have to go back to insert this scene at an earlier point of the book. If this keeps up, the dang book is gonna be closer to 100K words. Which is okay, I guess. I have to charge more but then there’s more to read so it all comes out even, right? So, writers, grab the inspiration and see where it takes you. Readers, what has truly inspired you today?