Six Further
Flash Fiction Pieces
by Barry Ergang
SCRAP METTLE
"I need
to get away from the base," Corporal
Billingsley said. "Let's hit a bar in town."
When they were
seated in a booth and had drinks in front of them,
Billingsley sighed disgustedly. "I pulled a
waste assignment."
"What's
that?" Krale asked.
"Guarding
nuclear and biochemical waste products from
terrorists."
"Hazardous
duty?"
"Boring
duty. We ought to get tedium pay."
"That bad,
huh?"
"All you
do is sit in a room and watch a monitor, or
patrol the outside of the facility looking for
suspicious activity."
"Sounds
pretty cushy."
"It's
brain-numbing. Waste is a terrible thing to mind."
Published
at Flashshot April 7, 2006
***********************************
A MEATING OF MINDS
"Are you
trying to ruin us?" the butcher demanded.
"We've had a spotless reputation in this
community for sixty years."
"Spotless?"
With insouciant innocence, Chuck looked down at
his stained apron.
The butcher
pointed a tremulous finger at the young man.
"That's what I mean--you and the wisecracks.
You insulted a customer!"
"I only
said with the size of her butt, she oughta be
buyin' a rump roast. Then I asked if she wanted a
pork roast, too."
"Exactly.
Two times you were discourteous to her."
Chuck gestured
dismissively. "I was kiddin' around. The
roast man always zings twice."
Published
at Flashshot February 10, 2007
***********************************
BUSINESS TRIP or A MEATING
OF MINDS REDUX
"The
customers are raving about the filet mignon,
sirloin, T-bone and porterhouse," the
butcher said. "What'd you do?"
"Marinated
them," Chuck said, "in ground marijuana
and hashish in olive oil. Extra virgin, of course."
"Are you
crazy? That's illegal!"
"Not if
we don't tell 'em. I won't if you won't."
The butcher
shook his head incredulously. "Why would you
do such a thing?"
"To
differentiate us from every other butcher shop
and supermarket out there," Chuck answered.
"To distance us from the competition. It's a
tough business." He smiled at the
refrigerated display case. "The steaks
are high."
Published
at Flashshot May 21, 2007
***********************************
WITHOUT FOUNDATION
"The one
I like best is from Franklin Shick," Dawson
said, pointing to a scale model on the table.
Wilmot, his
partner, gasped. "You want to let Shick
design a Las Vegas hotel?"
"Why not?"
"Eight
years ago, Shick designed a development of modern--and
expensive--luxury houses just outside of London."
"Well,
look at how sleek and modern his model is,"
Dawson said.
"The
houses were structurally unsound and literally
fell apart within a few years."
"Are you
serious?" Wilmot nodded grimly. "If you
give him the job, our hotel will be built like a
Shick Brit house."
Published
at Flashshot April 27, 2007
***********************************
THE PETRIFIED FLORIST
Peaceful, and
desirous of commerce with other worlds, the
dolphin-like denizens of the oceanic planet
Piscinius were anathema to men's--and most aliens'--eyes.
The snaky appendages that grew from their skulls
made them hideous and, unwitting Gorgons, they
turned their beholders to stone.
After three
members of his team succumbed to the Piscinians'
unintentional petrifaction, aqua-botanist Marlon
Turbot discovered an indigenous flower, the
distilled essence of which provided a serum the
Piscinians injected to render themselves harmless
to other beings. Their Prime Minister, the Duke
of Manatee, subsequently established cordial
relations with the Planetary Union.
When a plague
erupted on Ungualium, threatening all life, the
PU's president summoned Turbot and asked, "Will
your serum cure this species?"
"No, sir.
My medicine is strictly for Medusanal porpoises."
Published
at Litbits December 2, 2007
***********************************
FEEDWAY
"What're
you thinking?" the resort owner demanded.
"I ask for a first-class chef and you hire a
race-car driver."
"Retired
race-car driver," his president of
operations said, "who's studied at some of
the world's finest culinary institutes."
The owner
snorted. "Yeah--he'll give the customers gas,
right?"
"The
customers'll be revved. Racing's popular all over
the world. Drivers are superstars--including our
boy. The novelty's a great shift for us because
we can advertise a five-star restaurant featuring
a dual-celebrity chef." He snapped his
fingers. "We could rename the restaurant
Grand Prix!"
"Which of
you do I spin out of here first?"
"Neither.
At least, not till you've lapped the fare. You
don't know heaven till you've tasted his Lamb
Borghini."
Published
at One-Screen Stories March 15, 2008
***********************************
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