Sample Ending

the ending of Shooters

by Paul Andrew E. Smith

Cadillac and Fender and Coca-Cola will always be the names against which all others in their respective classes are measured, but, as the open road closes behind me like the zipper on the blue jeans of my satisfied and love-worn Mexicali princess one last time before she made her way from my hotel room in the dead of night back to her husband's restaurant, her Roman nose silhouetted against the full moon, I know that the standard-bearer of agave nectars has yet to be named and am satisfied that I came close to giving that name myself.

the ending of The Monday Morning Bank Job

by Frank Edmund Smith

So, we got away clean and could be living anywhere now. Why Carmela's hot to move to the suburbs I'll never figure. But, I do what I'm told. After all, she planned the job and it went off perfect, except for that weird thing when she sort of turned green and blew chunks all over the bank guard. She wasn't hung over or anything since, another weird thing, she'd stopped drinking.

But, here I am, buying her evening dill pickle, wishing I could just rob this deli like in the old days, and wondering why she insisted that we put so much of the loot in an "Education Fund."

I mean, we're both already as smart as we're going to get. I know I am.