Columbus day flash in Flash Friday

  • Oct. 12, 2015, 6:08 p.m.
  • |
  • Public

I know it seems long, but I just started typing, less than thirty minutes. I swear I’m going to keep writing shit until I write something I like

XXXXXXXX
XXXXXXXXX
XXXXXXX

“You are on a subway platform, several men are waiting to board the train. The train comes, all men board except for you and one other. As the train pulls out the other man explodes. As the pieces rain down you notice there are only three. Each piece is a burrito. A rodent scurries out of the tunnel and begins gnawing on the largest burrito. What sort of rodent is it?”

“A chipmunk.”

“Is a Chipmunk a rodent?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Um, probably. Wait, no, yes I’m sure.”

“Ok. You are in a chipmunk holde. Several burritos are waiting to board a train. The train arrives and the burritos enter. As the train pulls out it explodes raining down several men. What kind of men are they.”

“Robots.”

“Are robots men?”

“Yes.”

“Why are they robots?”

“Because they are made out of train and trains are made out of metal. , unless you mean something else by what kind of men. Good, they are good men. Kind to their mothers. They …”

“Ok, sir, that’s fine. You are at a burrito stand talking to the burrito man, a chipmunk approachs you and you a small subway train. He tells you that you have ten seconds. Ten seconds for what?”
I blanked.

“Sir, what happens in ten seconds?”

“I … I don’t know, I don’t know.”

“An explosion perhaps?”

“I don’t know.”

“Ok, thank you, we will be in touch.”

“Thanks.”

I waited outside for her to pick me up. It was raining and she took a half an hour and two blocks later we had to stop for gas. She asked me for money.

On the way home she asked “So, did you get it?”

“I don’t know, they said they’d call.”

“That’s the longest vetting for a bus boy job I’ve ever heard of.”

I leaned the seat back and turned the radio down a notch. “ The last place I worked only had bus girls. They had to wear this sort of leotard top, red and blue, it snapped right at the crotch and there was this small skirt they had to wear over it. They were supposed to wear their own tights, it was a family place, you know, for familys that liked bus girls in short skirts. In the kitchen we had this move; if you bunched up the polyester at the lower back and yanked real quick you could unsnap the leotard thingy. We were kids, you know, so we’d only do it if we liked the bus girl or if, you know, she wasn’t wearing tights.”

She was quiet for a minute and the windshield wipers sounded like the beating of the cars heart. She turned the radio back up.

“Well,” she said, “maybe that’s why it’s taking so long. They’re fitting your uniform for snaps.”

“That’s silly,” I told her, “It’s not a family place.”

“How do you know? I’ve dropped you off and picked up three times at an office building, you’ve never seen the restaurant.”

“I’ve got a masters in psychology. They had too many tunnels and burritos for a family place.”

“I don’t know what that means, but I’m hungry, what’dya say to buying a girl dinner?”


You must be logged in to comment. Please sign in or join Prosebox to leave a comment.