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Silent John

Here's how my novel might begin...
   

      John was mute, but he wasn't sensitive about it.  He'd grown up that way and it didn't bother him in the least.  What bothered him was people being scared of him because of his looks and size.  he was six feet eight and weighed 330 pounds.  He'd gone bald around the age of 25 making him bare an uncanny resemblance to Shaquille O'Neil, the ball player.  Except that John, due to his Norwegian heritage,  was white bordering on ghostly pale transparent.  JimmyJo, his partner on this particular job, combined O' Neill's nickname "Shack" with John's outward chalky appearance coming up with his own nickname for John - "Whack". As in,  Hey Whack!  Ya wanna pass me my cigs? or Man, Whack, ain't you gonna finish that?   More than folks being scared of him, John just couldn't abide people making fun of him.  He got the distinct feeling that JimmyJo was mocking him every time he said his nickname.  It had been days now since JimmyJo started with the "Whack" thing.  

      They sat in a city park staking out a client for their boss.  JimmyJo talking constantly.  At one point, he lightly punched John on the arm as he pointed out the client's girlfriend hailing a cab in front the apartment building.

      "Lookit that, Whack.  Second day she's stayed over.  It must be love, ya think?"

       John stretched his hands in front of him.  Large fingers like sausages, tendons like cables.  He smacked JimmyJo across the bridge of the nose sending the sinus bone into the brain killing him instantly. John wiped his hands on his coat in the blessed silence after.

       "Whack!" John thought, and he smiled.