As soon as I opened the door I knew I was in trouble. Tommy G. and his two large goons stood in the doorway. Tommy said, “You’re in to me for five large, Jimmy. These guys, Rocco and Seymour, are from my collection agency. They’re here to collect on your debt.” Tommy then stepped away, leaving his two very intimidating men to deal with me.
I needed time to collect my thoughts, so I invited them in and asked if I could get them a beer. Rocco — or maybe it was Seymour, these goons looked alike — large and mean — declined my offer. “You know why we’re here, Jimmy, ” he said. “So give us the money we’re here to collect and we’ll be on our way.”
“Listen, guys, ” I said, “I have a line on a fifty-to-one longshot in the third race at the track this afternoon. Give until 4:00 today and you can collect Tommy’s money. I promise.”
The two men laughed. The other goon said, “The only thing you’re going to collect, Jimmy, are some broken bones and a lot of bruises.”
And the beatdown commenced.
Written for Linda G. Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt, where we are supposed to use the word “collect” in our posts.