3 Phones, 300 Words By Joe Hakim

1.

She smiled as she handed him the bottle. He took it from her and poured himself a glass. 'So what do you think?' she asked.   'I'm not that bothered,' he replied. He was pretty drunk by now and he attempted to think of something to say, but the silence remained stagnant. She took a gulp from her glass, before saying, 'I'm not really that bothered either, to be honest.' His phone beeped. He took it from his pocket and checked it. It was a message from the other one. 'I guess that's it then,' he said as he reached for his cigarettes.

2.

The bus had been torn apart and thrown into the St. Stephen's shopping centre. The devastation was immense. Ken, mild-mannered librarian forever altered by a freak nuclear explosion, had transformed into his deformed, gigantic alter-ego, The Brute... Reaching down, The Brute picked up the last remaining survivor of the carnage and held him up so he could look him directly in the eye. 'This is your fault,' The Brute uttered in a craggy, guttural rasp. 'If you had stopped playing hardcore techno at full blast on your mobile when I asked, none of this would have happened… '

3.

The guy from across the street with the glasses stops moving long before Mark stops hitting him. Blood is everywhere; on the pavement, in the gutter, all over our trainers. 'That's what you get motherfucker,' Marks shouts before turning to me and asking: 'How was that?' 'Not bad, not bad at all,' I say, pressing the 'stop' button. We step back and Mark pulls a crumpled spliff from his pocket. 'Let's have a look,' he says, and I pass him the phone. He looks at the footage. 'Yeah, it's ok, but the picture quality is shite. Maybe next time, eh?'

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