Baby Pulp

Think film noir, with babies... And, once again, thank Chuck Wendig for this challenge.

Can't Kick the Habit

The pacifier lay between the two of them. Guns pointed under the table, sweat rolled down their fat little heads. Neither of them dared to move as the customers in the restaurant took no notice. The fedoras perched atop their heads, along with sharp 3-piece suits, gave the impression of business as usual.

A waitress came over and sat down their bottles too hard. One of them tipped over. She pretended not to notice and walked away.

The warm milk dripped steadily out of the nipple, pooling beneath it. Baby Hugo could see his nemesis flinch slightly. He wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer and Hugo knew it. If anything was true about Baby Vince it was that his one weakness was the bottle. This was a wide-known fact. Hugo had kicked the habit recently after many failed attempts. He could hold out all day if he needed to. Vince did not know this.

Plump hands still holding the guns in place, they each waited for the other to move.

The milk started to ooze toward Baby Vince’s side of the table. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead and onto his nose tickling him. Even though he wanted the milk badly, he still did not move.

Vince’s mouth was so dry, his tongue stuck to his toothless gums. He would be all right once he got his fix. That was all he needed.

When the milk reached the edge of the table in front of him, Vince felt a warm sensation spread over the front of his shirt. It drove him crazy, the smell and temperature of the liquid gold. He started to tremble, the gun moving unsteadily in his hand. He was losing it.

Baby Hugo watched the scene play out in front of him. The finger on the trigger squeezed slightly to get ready for action.

All at once Vince’s hand flew up and in one swift move grabbed the milk and shoved it in his mouth. Nearby a champagne bottle popped. The gun fired and Vince fell forward on the table.

Hugo picked up the pacifier and put it in his mouth , satisfied.