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Darwin sat wearily on the back deck of the steamer, gazing out at the islands and bidding them farewell.
A large lizard swam behind the boat, calling to him. “Darwin! Darwin, please… Don’t leave me!”
“I’m sorry,” he said to the lizard. “It would have never worked.”
“I’ll change for you,” the lizard called out. “I swear I will!”
He shook his head, knowing she could never change. Her children perhaps, but not her.
Tags: Darwin, flash fiction, Galapagos, lizards
“Aaaaaaaaaaa?” the hard faced, white-haired lady said. “It says ‘Aaaaaaaaaaa.’”
“Yes ma’am,” he said.
“Your name is ‘Aaaaaaaaaaa?’”
“It’s pronounced ‘Bill.’”
“Bill?” She stared at him in outrage. “How do you get ‘Bill’ out of eleven A’s?”
“It’s a foreign spelling.”
“Well, that’s just ridiculous!”
“It’s on my birth certificate.” He proffered his wrinkled document.
“I’m not issuing a driver’s license to ‘Aaaaaaaaaaa.’”
“Bill,” he corrected.
“I don’t care how you pronounce it!” Her eyes scanned further down the paperwork. “And what’s this? Your last name is ‘Puffiboomboom?’”
“Yes…”
“Puffy … boom boom?”
“Well, it’s, um—”
“What, do you pronounce it, ‘Smith?’”
“Actually, it’s pronounced, ‘Ledbetter.’”
“Ledbetter?” Her wrinkles flushed crimson. “How do you get ‘Ledbetter’ from ‘Puffiboomboom?’” She held up her wiry hand. “Don’t tell me. Foreign spelling.”
“Yes.”
“How stupid do you think I am?” she said. “This has to be a prank!”
“No, ma’am.”
“I’m not buying this, not at all!”
“I have all the paperwork filled out—”
“Aaaaaaaaaaa Puffiboomboom is not getting a driver’s license. Not from me.”
“Ma’am, I didn’t choose this name. It’s something I’ve had to live with all my life.”
“Well, it’s time to choose something else!”
“I can’t.”
“Why not? If your name is ‘Bill Ledbetter’ then why don’t you just spell it that way?”
“Can we do that?”
“Well,” she said, “let’s see.” She typed angrily at her keyboard for long minutes, and then a machine whirred. She grabbed a stamp, smacked it down on his paperwork like a judge banging a gavel, and then slid the whole pile at him. “There, Aaaaaaaaaaa Puffiboomboom, it’s done.”
He stared at his brand new driver’s license. The picture was typically horrible, but the name was spelled “Bill Ledbetter.”
“Thank you,” he said to her.
She huffed, then looking past him at the long line, shouted, “Next!”
Bill gathered the papers and his new license and walked quickly outside to where his friends waited. He showed them the license, pointing at the birth date. Magically, he was now over 21 years old.
“Dude!” yelled one of his ecstatic friends. “Let’s go buy beer!”
Gargantuan white ducks waddled down the road, their orange webbed feet large as small cars, and each impact released a thunderous tremor that could be felt miles away. We hid in terror at their passing, huddled behind broken signboards. “Quack!” said one. “Quack!” We covered our ears and trembled, sure each moment would be our last.
Jane, crazed by booze and her innate hatred for the lab-created monsters, broke free from her hiding place and raced out to the middle of the cracked pavement. She stood behind the last one, pointing a flare gun. I wanted to scream “No!” but didn’t dare. She risked her life, but I couldn’t risk everyone else’s.
The muzzle spit flame and sparks, and the projectile shot out, wobbling, and embedded itself into the massive tail feathers. It took a moment for it to register through the massive body, but when it did the giant duck gave a shudder and it opened its beak. A noise like none other raked the very air around us, and flames quickly spread along the oiled feathers.
Jane did a dance of vengeful joy, and then scrambled to load another flare.
It was the last time we saw her alive.
The light shone through the window, dawn breaking. Birds had been singing for at least twenty minutes.
He lay there for a while without opening his eyes. He could feel her against him, a delicate leg draped across his, a thin tender arm across his neck. He felt the naked skin of her back against his hand. Her breathing was low, rhythmic. He smiled broadly, eyes still closed.
What a wonderful morning, he thought.
Peeking through barely opened lids, he spied the clock, and saw the alarm was about to go off. Carefully, so as not to disturb her, he reached out and turned the alarm off. They would be late for work today.
It would be worth it.
The world is a much more exciting place ever since the Mexican jumping bricks got loose. Not a day goes by when, at some point, Joe’s life isn’t endangered. Like earlier this evening, while trying to relax with a cup of Jasmine tea and a heaping plate of fried noodles. The red bricks vibrated loose from the columns outside and began leaping en masse through the plate glass windows, sending shards everywhere.
Damn it, he thought. Sparkles from glass twinkled at him from his noodles. All that wasted food. His stomach told him to eat around it.
The staff burst from the back of the restaurant, screaming as they counter attacked, their hands and feet making overly-loud swooshing sounds in the air. Finally there was a use for the Karate art of breaking bricks by hand. Joe stared at his ruined food stoically as young Japanese men and women shouted “Yah!” and “Ooooo-wah!” punctuated by the sharp snapping of masonry.
One woman who’s reflexes proved too slow fell against his table on the way to the floor, where she convulsed from fatal head trauma. A red gash on her temple told of where a corner of one of the Mexican jumping bricks got her. Joe’s noodles rained upon her blood stained chest.
Joe sighed, and got up to leave.
“You did not pay!” yelled one of the Japanese men.
“I didn’t get my dinner. She did.” He pointed at the floor.
They were going through the dead woman’s purse as Joe pushed his way through the broken glass door, stepping out into the mayhem of the world beyond.
Tags: bricks, flash fiction, genetic mutants, invasion, martial arts, noodles, science fiction
He promised to show her Eden.
A three hour hike through the beautiful moss covered oaks, low grass, and shady groves of fern led them to a waterfall that feathered its way 30 feet down into a large pool. On their way to the water they passed the remains of the old farm house, abandoned so long ago the wood had turned to dust, and walked through the small apple orchard now gone wild. She raced past him and dove into the water without hesitation.
“Isn’t it cold?” he asked.
“Yes!” she gasped, laughing. “It’s wonderful!”
He took off his shoes and socks, then waded into the chilly water. She swam up to him with a bundle in her hand, and tossed it dripping onto a sunlit bolder. She smiled at the look on his face.
“Was that all your clothes?” he asked.
“Well,” she said, “isn’t Eden clothing-optional?”
“Yes,” he said, grinning. “Yes it is.” He undid the front of his pants, and let them drop.
Above, a snake slithered through the branches of an apple tree, pausing to look down at them and flick its tongue.
Tags: apples, flash fiction, kissing, love, nudity, romance, skinny dipping, snakes
He stood in the frosty air, hands deep in the pockets of his leather jacket, watching her twirling out on the ice. Her grace and poise were hypnotic to watch. The curve of her back, the stretch of her arms, the fluid movements of her legs, all swathed in shimmering translucent cloth the color of bright moonlight.
A long curve brought her around to him, and she stopped, her skates showering his shoes with a dusting of frost. Small delicate hands slid into his pockets to find his, hands warm despite the frigid air. Pressing up against him, they shared a smile.
“Come dance with me,” she said.
“I’ll fall on my ass.”
“So? Fall on your ass. I’ll push you around.”
“What?”
“Come on!”
He took a breath, then his right foot stepped onto the hard slick surface, followed by his left. What power she has over me. No one else could get me out here.
Ten paces into the journey and his footing failed him. Shoes slid, gravity pulled him down. He landed hard right where he said he’d land.
Instead of pushing him around, she sat in his lap, put her arms around his neck, and pressed her lips against his.
“Meow,” said the beautiful blonde.
“Meow?” I asked, then gave the orderly a strange look.
The young balding man shrugged. “That’s Heather Clarke, the actress.”
“Meow,” said Heather Clarke. She licked her hand and used it to smooth out her hair.
“What happened?” I asked.
“She snapped last week. Been playing the part of Jemima in Cats for seven years, and now she can’t get out of character.”
“Hmmm,” I said, then turned and did the only thing I could think of. I barked.
Immediately her head dropped, her shoulders raised, and she spat and hissed at me. The hackles at the back of my neck rose, and I growled.
Quick as light, she unsheathed her claws and slashed. I stumbled backwards in pain, blood streaming down my face. I gave her one long canine gaze, then turned and left. I knew her smell. I could find her again. Anytime.
During the next full moon, I’d get my revenge.
Originally published in Flash Me.
The buns were cold.
It was a fact, and not one person tried to deny it. The buns, which had been warm before, were now at a temperature close to that of absolute zero.
“Try the buns,” Robert said. The man made an elaborate gesture toward the frosty plate on the table between them.
Leonard leaned forward. “Don’t mind if I do,” he said, and snatched one up. He didn’t realize it was cold until after his tongue was frozen and he couldn’t pull it out of his mouth. Struggling in surprise and shock, Leonard writhed in his chair and knocked over drinks and dishes. Within moments the terrible frost reached his brain, and Leonard twitched a few last times and fell over, his body making a muffled thump on the thick shag carpet.
Robert laughed at his stupid and luckless ex-friend. He had known the buns were cold, and had wisely avoided them. However, when he slipped a delicious spoonful of buttered zucchini into his mouth, his head caught fire and then exploded from the intense heat.
The zucchini was hot.
Originally published in Channel X.
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