Friday Flash Fiction – Vampeeble… The Priceless Weeble

“Stupid, stupid,” I said as I stood on the curb in rain-soaked clothes. I had to get to the Weeble Extravaganza before that mean old bitty Rachie did.  I couldn’t let her get the best Weeble of all!  I know she wanted to get that special vampire Weeble that we both had our hearts on.  No way!  That Vampeeble is mine!  There is a tale that goes with the Vampeeble.  Whoever possesses the rare Weeble, has unlimited power and wealth.  Apparently, I can make anyone do anything if I possess Vampeeble!

Weebles wobble but they don’t fall down!

I was finally going to beat Rachie at her own silly game.  Ever since we were little girls she always one upped me.  When I got my special blue dress with the two rows of ruffles on it for the sixth grade dance, she got a blue dress with four ruffles.  When I started dating Ricky, she told him lies about me and then dated him! When I got my first car, a little 1972 yellow Beetle Bug, she got a 1974 Beetle Bug, also yellow but with a big daisy painted on the trunk.

Well, my yellow Beetle died just yesterday and her Beetle is still very much alive.  At this moment, I am on the corner of her street waiting for her to come out her door. As soon as she does I am going to chat her up then hit her over the head and steal her Beetle! I know it sounds crazy, but the Vampeeble is very important to me.

“Hey, Renee,” a voice said from behind me. It was Rachie!  What? I had to look natural.

I turned and waved, “Hey, Rachie, what’s up?” Man, the rain is really coming down now.

“I didn’t see you at the Weeble Extravaganza last week.  It’s too bad, you know?  They had two Vampeebles.  Two! I could hardly stand it.  They were only fifty dollars each.  I got them both and -” she was pulling something out of her pocket.

Did she say, last week? “You greedy wench!” I screamed.  I saw the bus coming out of the corner of my eye.  I planned it perfectly.  I watched her smile beam on her face as she pulled two Vampeebles out of her pocket. She held them out, taunting me with her dumb smile.

I pushed her in front of the bus as it careened down the street. WHACK! The bus smacked her right off her feet and the Weebles flew into the air.  I had to get the Weebles!  I stretched my arms out as far as they would go.  As if by fate, the Weebles landed right in my hands! Oh happy joy.

I turned to run down the street, and was met with a second bus.  I forgot about the second bus! “Stupid, stupid,” I shouted as the Weebles dropped out of my hand and down the sewage drain in the street.

There we lay, two gals in the middle of the street.  We were Vampeeble-less and I had a broken leg.  I flipped over and began to crawl toward the sewer.  Tears streamed my face as pain shot up my body.  I had to have the Vampeebles.

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Flash Fiction Friday – Coming to Get You

Today I walked down the street, making it a point to look each stranger I passed directly in his or her eyeball.  Most people cannot look at me long because they know I am the Truth Seeker.  I seek the truth in random passersby and after making my determination of their worthiness, I pass along the information to my boss.

Now, my boss is an interesting character in that he seems to let the good suffer incredibly long while the bad seem to suffer hardly at all.

This is where I come into the picture.  I am the one who gets things done here in this (what some would call God Forsaken) world. I am the one that takes the best of the best from this Earth and I put them in a place where evil will no longer come to them.

See, my boss has it all sorted out for all the beings on this planet and he has made me his right-hand person through all of it.

Oh, here comes one now.  I am staring into her ice blue eyeball as she approaches me.  She pretends she does not see me, but I know she does.  I am the Truth Seeker!

Ok, she passed me with a scowl.  Almost everyone that passes me scowls at me when they see me leering into their eyeballs like some creepy pirate. I laugh just loud enough to confuse them when I get looks like that.

Alright, I got her profile.

She is a grump, insecure and poor at time management.  However, she is an inherently good person that has had a rough life, so I will just have to make something happen in her life that impacts her and gets her thinking on a more “constructive” level if you catch my drift.

Ooh, here comes a good one.  This guy in his BMW just cursed out some poor old lady! He’ll never catch on, but still, I like to toy with the self-righteous.  You would be surprised how many people do not catch on to these little obstructions I put into their path.  People seem to think in terms of the self too often and when something profound in their life takes place, they say things like “shit happens” or “it is what it is.”

Uh, no. Nothing just happens, people!  Gosh, it annoys me so much that these humans think it is all about them and that all the things that happen in their life is on an “it is what it is” basis!

Oh, I am sorry.  I forgot to introduce myself!  Most people call me Karma, some call me Fate, others don’t give me a name.  I am always watching and I will get you when you least expect it. You can call me whatever you like, you’ll know me when you meet me.

Flash Fiction Friday – Slug Dedication

Image courtesy of nibsblog.com

“I am so sorry about your father, Misha,” Gabriel said as he placed a ladder up against the house.  The sky was bright, a wonderful day to help in the garden.

Misha plopped her butt on the damp earth and looked up.  “It’s okay, Gabe.  I’m not terribly upset.”

Gabriel dug the feet of the ladder into the ground and looked down at Misha.  “How could you say that?  Your father loved you.”

Misha laughed raucously. “He always said he wanted me to dedicate something to him.  One of my poems that he scoffed at maybe, I thought.”

Gabriel watched her silently as she did a fine job of controlling the tears.

“But I discovered something better,” she whispered as she pulled back a rotting piece of wood from the garden floor. “Look,” Misha said gesturing to a family of slugs hiding beneath.

Gabriel jumped back.  “Eww,” he said and crinkled his nose.  “Are you going to kill them with salt?”

Misha put her finger to her chin and glanced up to the sky.  “I thought about that.  Sad, you know, slugs get such a bad rap.  They are certainly more useful than my father ever was.”

Misha stood up and brushed the dirt off her butt.

Gabriel squatted to get a good look at one of the slugs, gently poking one with his finger.

Misha watched him and grabbed his arm.

“Don’t touch the slugs, Gabriel.”

Flash Fiction Friday – Reflection

image courtesy of powerfulintentions.org

“I saw you in the window today, you looked good,” Reflection said.
“Really?  I thought I looked like hell myself.”
“Oh, come on, you’re being too hard on yourself,” Reflection said.
“I speak the truth.  I am ugly and I am stupid.  There is no getting around it.  I mean, why else would Daddy leave?” I said.
“Daddy left because he is a loser.  Daddy doesn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground.  He’s a freaking crackhead,” Reflection was starting to piss me off.
“True.  But still.  All my friends have their dads and they are all pretty.”
“You really need to stop this.  You’re being ridiculous. Do you talk like this to other people?  Like, do you tell other people they are ugly or stupid or lazy?” Reflection had a point.
“No.  I am nice to everyone but me.  I laugh at everyone’s jokes.  I tell other people how great they are or how pretty they look.  Sometimes people say nice things to me.”
“I know.  And what do you say?” Reflection was getting angry.
“I brush it off.  I deflect it.  I make excuses.  I feel like I don’t deserve nice stuff, you know?  I don’t deserve compliments or praise.  I’m so dumb.”
“Stop.  Just stop.  Just for today I want you to tell me one nice thing.  Maybe your eyes. You have very pretty eyes.  They have little green flecks in them. Did you know that?”
“Yes.  I did know that.  My eyes are pretty, aren’t they?”
“Be nice to yourself today.  Just for today,” Reflection said.  What else could I do?  I owed it to Reflection.
I owed it to myself to be as nice to me as I was to everyone else. Reflection showed me how pretty I was, how great my hair looked or my happy eyes and I just tore Reflection down.  Every day I looked at Reflection and said nasty mean things.  I would never talk to anyone else like that. How could I talk to Reflection like that when Reflection was a piece of me?
I think if I am nicer to Reflection, I will be nicer to myself.

Yeah, that sounds like a good start.

Flash Fiction Friday – Bullet

image courtesy of zodiacgift.com
Special Bullet

So I sat in a box for the last, oh, I don’t know, seven years?  Just sat there on a shelf with dozens of other boxes on other shelves with the others and I am finally free.
I don’t know who opened the box and put me in the chamber of freedom, but his fingers were fat like crinkled sausages and they smelled like shit. I guess some uprights never wash their hands.
“There you go my pet,” the upright says. “You are such a special little bullet. You were born to do great things.  You are going to change history, my pet.”
The upright talks a lot.
It’s freaking dark in here.  I have waited my entire life to get out of that damn box. I am a special bullet.  I don’t mingle with common bullets.
Seven years I have waited for this.  I don’t know what to expect. I just hear the voice.  I guess the voice thinks I can’t understand, but I can. I hear it talk about me.  It talks about my velocity, my speed and my distance.
It’s weird, you know? I don’t know what any of it means.
I can hear the upright speak as I sit here waiting for my moment of glory. He told me I was going to change history.  I don’t know what that means really…  but it sounds important.
Before the upright put me in here, it held me close to where the voice comes out.  It told me all these things.
“You’re so beautiful,” it says.
“You are the most special bullet ever, little bullet. You are going to make poppa so proud,” the voice cries.
I wanted to concur or validate the voices wishes. But what the hell, I’m just a bullet after all. A special bullet it tells me. But I don’t know what the means.  I don’t even know what my purpose is.
“Oh, special bullet. Be straight and true with your aim, young one.  Guide your soul into the heart of that bastard and save us all,” the voice screams.
The upright put me in something cold and long.  It’s dark in here.
Wait.  I just heard a loud bang and now I am zooming through the air toward another upright.  I don’t understand any of this.
Now I am in something hot, dark and wet. This is so odd.  I was happy in my box with the others.  I don’t feel so special anymore. Where is the voice?
I hear other voices now.  They are making high-pitched noises.  They are screaming, “He’s shot! He’s shot!”
My shell is gone.  I am now a flat piece of metal.
I still don’t feel special.

Friday Flash Fiction – The Coffee Room

electro-maniacs.net
Image courtesy of electro-maniacs.net

I could smell it.  Its perverse odor invaded my nostrils as I sat on the overstuffed, taupe chair that reminded me of over-creamed coffee.

“Bastards,” I mumbled.  The fabric color on the chair was no accident.  Of this, I was sure.  I pretended to ignore the odor. My brow beaded with sweat as I ogled the gurgling contraption on the counter in the corner.  I eyeballed the powdered creamer and the foam cups.  Maybe it would not hurt if I had one cup.

“No,” I said aloud.

A woman with too much eye make-up on snapped her head up to glare at me.  “Excuse me?” she asked in an annoyed tone as she shifted in her dark brown chair.

Go to hell, bitch. And take your laughable eye shadow with you, I thought.

“Sorry, I was talking to myself,” I answered.

“Oh,” she cracked her gum.  “Why are you here?” She kept staring at me.

“Not much of a talker, huh? I get it.  I never was either, but Dr. Pantomime said I need to be more expressive,” she said and motioned to her face.

“I don’t think that’s what he meant, but okay,” I flubbed as the coffee became pungent.  Why would they put fucking coffee in here?  Did they not know why I was here? Did they not get the fucking memo?

“Excuse me, miss?” I said to the receptionist behind the desk. She looked up and slid the glass back.

“Yes?”

“Is there caffeine in that coffee?” I asked.

“I don’t know, sir.  You’ll have to figure it out for yourself.”

The powered creamer fell silently into the six-ounce abyss of coffee that swirled in the foam cup.  I had a fifty-fifty shot. If it was decaf, I was okay.  If not, the clown woman and glass woman would have a free ticket to hell.

“Ready?” I shouted.  The man who just entered the waiting room looked confused.  I chugged the coffee as it caressed my throat, burning on the way down.  My head raced.  My heart palpitated.

I smiled as the beads of sweat dripped into my eyes. “You’re all screwed.”

Flash Fiction Friday – Crawling

I came to the park to get away from stress.  Now here I lay, frozen on the mucky ground.  My brand new coat ripped and ruined.

Where the hell did that rock come from?  And who trips and falls on their back? Me.  That’s who. Well, at least the sky is blue.

Wait. What was that? Oh no.  I hear something in the brush next to me! I hope it is someone to help. Hello? can you hear me? I can’t move my legs.

No. No. No. Mr. Bear, please.  I just got this coat and it is so pretty! Don’t eat me.