“For sure it is a tired cliché,” Donaldson heard his doppelganger say. “Trading places would be easy though. You take over my business and I yours.”
“You know nothing about building hydro dams and I nothing about building cruise ships,” Donaldson answered.
“We both sit in offices the whole day. How often do we actually do the work?”
“True,” Donaldson said. “Why not. For thirty days then we switch back.” The men shook and parted, ready to live a different life.
The doppelganger phoned his boss minutes later.
“We’re good. I will tank the stock at first light sir!”
“What the heck is Ramsey doing out there Clem?” Abe questioned.
His seventy-two year old neighbor was blasting away at the ground, kneeling to watch the newly created hole, moving another ten feet and repeating the process.
“Ever hear of them Virtual Reality things?”
“Apparently Ramsey strapped on Aaron’s new set last night and watched the Beverly Hillbillies. Now he’s convinced he can repeat Jed’s luck,” Clem said
“Stupid redneck. Don’t he know he is using the wrong ammo?”
“What are you talking about?”
“In Jed’s book ‘Finding Oil For Dummies’ he said to use real lead shot!”
Jerome never had seen belly dancers, at least not in person. When he imagined it he chose to rely on the one image burned into his mind, that of a beautiful Barbara Eden in her genie outfit. So one could imagine his excitement when he saw their would be belly dancing in this three hour dance recital.
When the music began Jerome sat up in anticipation, but ten seconds later he sank back dejected. There was no Barbara Eden to bee seen anywhere near the stage. Instead it resembled a cruel joke. There was plenty of belly on display.
I am not sure this came off as funny as I intended, but it is a true story. At least seven or eight years ago I attended one of these marathon dance recitals and the belly dancers that made their appearance were nothing like Barbara Eden either. Without being unkind they were just a little older than a belly dancer in their prime.
April 20 Flash Fiction Challenge
The young man stood quietly, eyes glued to the arrangement of rings. All that moved was his eyes. They buzzed back and forth across the collection like a caffeine-addled bee.
“Don’t you have anything unique?” he finally asked.
“Unique? Son all of this is unique and handmade.”
“Yeah, I know, but this chick is one in a million!”
“Chick? Are you calling some lovely young woman a chick? What’s wrong with you? You need to learn some manners young man. Women are not chicks!”
Both turned when a girl in a bird suit opened the door.
“Ring?” she asked.
Mitch felt his throat tighten, belly flop and the beads of sweat from on his forehead. The raven haired brown eyes beauty stepped into the coffee shop at her regular time 7:33. He knew it was a bit like a stalker to already have her coffee ready, but she always ordered the same kind.
She looked at the name on the cup and flashed the million-dollar smile.
“You are the only one to get my name right!”
“Krystyn is unusual!” he said.
“I think it is time we meet, what is your name?”
“Kevin. It is Kevin.”
March 23, 2017 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write about an audience. It can be broad or small, and gathered for any reason. How does your character react to an audience? Is the audience itself a character. Go where the prompt leads.
Brent didn’t like this moment. It took him longer to unpack his instrument than most. But he knew he had to do it with care due to his affected limbs. His mother tried more than once to explain cerebral palsy to him and why it made things so much harder for him, but all he knew was that it hurt and made his life much more cumbersome.
Brent slid his hand in the custom loop that would allow him to retain control of the bow and began to play. One by one people gathered to hear his flawless music.
“What is this?” Inspector Clouseau said as he turned the piece of contraband over in his hand as he surveyed the scene of the latest Art Hater Serial Killer murder.
“Once it was called a canvas,” Yvette said. “For art.”
“Art! Art has been outlawed for a decade!”
“Legislation cannot stop passion, Inspector.”
“Perhaps not, but a slug can,” he said nodding to the lifeless form.
“So we assume AHSK found out about the victim’s art and came calling?”
“Assume nothing, dear Yvette. Check the desk calendar.”
“It just says Moriarty!”
“Holmes’ nemesis? I though he liked all art!”
From the walkway overlooking Niagra Falls Jessie felt the awesome splendor of this gorgeous wonder. She felt like that with Sam once, but now they were married.
“Anything,” Sam said, taking her hand.
“Promise we won’t be boring.”
“Not on your life. Stories will be written about us through eternity.”
“You’re right, this place is amazing!”
Actually I got a complaint a little earlier,” Sam said.
“The star of the show,” Sam said motioning over his shoulder with his thumb at the roaring water. “You’re upstaging it.”
That drew Jessie’s beautiful smile.
Karina twisted in front of the shiny 5 x 5 sheet of slag. Allie smiled while watching from her register at the door. It’d be great to sell the sizable piece of art, but her hopes were slim.
“I need to convince my husband” she said covering her cell phone as she neared the station.
Karina felt the swell of optimism, but breathed it out just as quickly. Being in the business meant disappointment was more often your closest friend.
“If you could see my reflection you would agree. I look like I did in Aruba,” Allie said. “Buy it? Okay!”