Flash Fiction: Waiting Game

Image: Dalek Snow, a Creative Commons Attribution (2.0) image from Jeffery_2010's Photostream

While this photo prompt partly inspired this flash fiction, it really kicked into gear after reading a Charlie Brooker article where he talks about the future of toys. With Flash Fiction Project starting up the January Shenanigans challenge in a few days, I thought I'd get some early practice in.



           Andy and Mark spent the evening watching reports on the new Mickey Mouse doll; the battery powered dance machine that was a wish come true for some. Mark was baffled by its antics, “What’s it doin’? There’s no way it can do the Gangnam Style!”

    Andy looked down at his phone. His eyes narrowed at the screen, the loading bar teasing him just by being there. Even Mark’s dismay at the toy lineup did not scare him away.

    “Wow! They really went to town on these Easy Meals,” he said. The commercial went on about their new sauce grinder and Twinkie alternatives. Andy just mumbled at his phone.

    Then some more commercials came and went; valets for your snowmobile, a pop artist’s latest album, some chocolate candy, and so on. Mark, tired of being on the soapbox of consumerism, tried to look over Andy’s shoulder. His phone was still the center of attention even if the bar’s only 46 percent full.

    Unfortunately, Mark couldn’t read anything on the screen, battling the force of Andy’s shoulder.

    “What was that for,” He asked. “I was only trying to-”

    Andy shushed him and continued to stare at his mobile, now at the 60 percent mark. A daytime show was airing, the host sitting in his easy chair while a couple argued about commitments. Mark had no intention of listening to a cheating dilemma alone. He switched channels and proceeded to inundate his eyes with Peter Cushing and the sounds of alien invasion running through his ears.

    They remained at their separate screens for a long while, neither one saying a word. That silence was broken by Andy who clenched his fist in a moment of discovery and shouted enthusiastically.

    Mark turned around and out from his trance, “You’re finished with Ocean’s 11?”

    “Even better,” Andy said. “I’ve finished downloading The Men Who Stare at Goats! Now I can finally rest knowing that I can watch a George Clooney film without having to battle my way through road crossings, public transport, and lines to get to that precious Redbox.”

    Mark pointed to a console, “But isn’t that why I got you that Apple TV?”

    Andy placed his phone down on the coffee table and sighed heavily. In that struggle he forgot about Christmas and, more importantly, Christmas shopping. He wrote a list the following day and went out armed with gift cards for various department stores.

Flash Fiction: "Where's the Sausage?"

A new year brings more opportunities to write on. Here's to another good year in writing!

This piece was inspired by +Michael Mahemoff's G+ post about sandwiches and Yelp, which reminded me of situations close to home; at least fifteen minutes away.


     So I went into the store, hungry for some meats. Asked for a sausage grinder after realizing how much bite I would get from just one link. Now this is where things go crazy, he starts pouring sauce all over my bread. Then just closes the sandwich. Yeah, let that one sink in for a second. 
     
     "Where's the sausage?" I ask.
 
     The guy just stares at me, like I was in my Mitsubishi in the middle of the night. Deers, squirrels, and even bears've got nothin' on this guy. 

     "I thought you wanted a sauce grinder" He says, handing me my ruined sandwich.
 
     I explain to him that I wanted a sausage grinder, but he still translates my words as sauce grinder. How can something so simple go over his head, I have no idea. One thing was clear though, he forgot the sausages.
 
     I was not amused by this, but the higher-ups got someone else to make my sausage cravings complete. He just went to town and the finished product was a success in my book. Let's just say, I saved your store from a one-star disaster.

Final Score: 3/5

Flash Fiction: Friday Night Frustrations

           Andy walked into Mark’s apartment as a waterlogged fisherman who caught a school of disappointment. Mark paused his game of bus simulator still on the first level.

           

           “Did you find it,” He asked, taking a sip of his green tea.

           

            Andy sighed, “The rental store’s been gone for years now.”

           

           “Yeah,” Mark agreed, grinning. “But what about that Redbox?”

            Something clicked inside Andy’s brain and the door slammed behind him. Mark shrugged and returned to his game where he navigated through intersections. Every bus stop had Mark biting his lower lip, sweating.

            He muttered to himself, “C’mon. C’mon.”

            All he had to do was brake and turn precisely in short taps and flicks. Then victory would be achieved with his passengers disembarking for the mall. It was just within his reach and…

            “Found it,” Andy said.

            Mark jumped in shock, his game docking him some points for slamming into the bus stop.  He got up and walked towards Andy in a stride of stomping.

            “What was that for,” He asked, snatching the DVD case from Andy. “I almost had it.”

            “What do you mean almost,” Andy said, pointing at the case. “You have it now, thief.”

            Mark growled and gestured Andy to follow. They sat at the sofa where the TV screen blinked, “Game Over”.

            Mark lifted his palm towards the screen, “You do not know how frustrating it is to drive a bus. Took me about 15 tries before now just to get near the end of the level! Had to break out the instruction manual just to get the hang of driving it and now you ruined everything!”

            Andy looked at the screen, baffled. He could not understand the importance of the video game that made Mark sulk from reality into the television.

            “Does George Clooney drive buses now,” He asked.

            Mark just shrugged back to reality, “Maybe People magazine knows something about it.”

            He continued on into the kitchen and took out the lasagna from the oven. They ate and discussed Andy’s discovery of online shopping and the countless speedo swimsuits he ordered. He then took out the Redbox’s latest bounty, battered and bruised from the laptop bag.

            “Great thing about my laptop,” Andy said, booting it up. “Takes on DVDs and plays them.”

            Mark exhaled in relief. This time he would be able to see Ocean’s Eleven in its full glory. Even when Andy inserted the DVD into the optical disk drive, Mark was starring at the computer screen ready for the movie to begin.

            “It’s a shame about the graphics card,” Andy said.

            Mark jerked his head from the monitor, “Huh?”

            “I mean, it can do YouTube and play high-res games,” Andy said. “But it has this strange…thing going on.”

            Mark frowned. The same situation with his TV played through his mind on repeat. He took out a frying pan, and prepared his throwing hand.

            “Relax, Mark,” Andy shouted. “It can read the disc, but…ah! There’s the problem!”

            They spent the rest of the evening watching Oceans Eleven with the Rat Pack in all their glory. Andy spent the following morning calling the computer shop trying to find a specialist in optical temporal disk drives.

              

For Flash Fiction Project prompt #44.

From the Fishtank: Triumphs and Falls

This first originally appeared on my musings blog for Flash Fiction Project's Broken TV prompt.

Mark was softly weeping. His television sat on the curb, its screen shattered and frame broken. A DVD jutted out from the built-in player on the bottom of the frame. It was one of those movies that George Clooney stared in; Ocean’s Eleven.

Mark remembered the moment of triumph at the CVS’s Redbox, when the film was finally available for rent. He had been going on for weeks at the local university, talking about nothing but Clooney. It was as if George Clooney was a language all to himself. Then last night, the triumph was something to be celebrated.

Mark rushed back to his apartment, ran to the living room, and prepared himself for the sacred ritual. TV input set to built-in DVD, he proceeded to take Ocean’s Eleven from its makeshift case. Fingers on the edges, he carefully inserted the DVD into the slot, as if it were glass.

He grinned, beaming from side to side, then came a loud ‘woo’ from his mouth. He waited as the player made its small squawking noises. Few minutes later, the squawking was still going and the screen was a generic blue.

Then his worst fears came true: “Unable to read disk.”   

Flash Fiction: They Were the 'In' Thing

“It’s not making a full circuit,” The tailor said.

            

He was looking at a pair of Roderick’s trousers. They appeared to be an ordinary pair, something one would wear for nine-to-five shifts. Yet here he was at the tailor’s, trying his best to create a constructive complaint for double the money he spent.

            

“Oh sure,” He said. “I’ve ran some major laps in those. Gotta stay in shape for the ladies.”

            

The tailor sighed, “No, I mean they’re not making a full circuit.”

“What does a pipsqueak like you know about pants?”

“It’s my profession, and I can tell you that they are not working properly.” The tailor leaned in. “You know what they are right?”

            

Roderick grinned. He had made the purchase at a punk clothing store. Alongside the skull T-shirts and leather jackets he was familiar with, he found those pants for a thrifty price. The advertisement, promising sex appeal and a fit body, had inspired him, discarding his love of biker gangs for chic clothing.

            

“Aren’t they the best,” He said. “I thought that McNeys sucked the balls from men.”

            

“True,” The tailor replied. “They fry them instead.”

            

Roderick cocked an eye and shook his head, “What?”

“These are the signature Eclectic Electric; McNey’s first in their lineup of light-Up denim fabrics.”

            

Roderick chuckled and started sweating torrents.

            

“Relax,” the tailor said, unfazed. “They don’t really do that sort of thing.”

            

“Then where’s my sexiness? Those legs of mine ain’t eye candy, even after all that running.”

“That,” The tailor took out a switch from a trouser pocket. “Is when the eclectic turns electric.”

            

He pressed a button and the pants were lit in neon colors. Another button press and they began to circulate in a simple pattern.

             

“Made for nightclubs,” He said. “Not for gym.”

Prompted by: Nina Pelletier's Prompt-and-Share assignment for June 2, 2012.

Flash Fiction: Swimsuit Dilemma

“Does this one suit you, sir,” A salesperson asked.

           

“No! I don’t want trunks,” Andy replied. “Those are for elephants. What I want are speedos.”

“We don’t sell those here, sir.”

           

Another clothing store, searched from front to back, and Andy still could not find a new pair of speedos. He reveled in the thought of all of the world’s skin-tight clothing for men; gone and never to be manufactured again. Haunting him for several nightmares straight, he decided to take it down in a mental fight for the ages.

           

This meant making ads for the community bulletin boards in cafes and that niche near the bathrooms in the Barnes & Noble. It was like a missing person’s ad, without the person and more ‘bring-on-the-briefs’.

           

Days passed, and countless viewings of TV films had only brought Andy quivering in despair. Nobody phoned him to give him tips on the precious speedo store from beyond city limits. Not even packages touched his doorstep, treasures he would keep sacred in his dresser.

           

He decided to go back and purchase the swimming trunks. That was when he noticed an unfamiliar face in his car; dressed in a white t-shirt and kaki shorts. He was playing around with a laptop; chuckling away. Andy looked nervously at him, and then went around into the car.

           

“Hi there,” The young man said. “Ready to do some shopping?”

           

 Baffled and surprised, Andy nodded, “About time!”

“Exactly, PC, Mac, or Linux?”

For Flash Fiction Project: Prompt 36.