Pink Bicycles

Together with "Bananarama" (kinda) and "Oh, Nancy," this is a flash fiction piece that takes a different look at well-known characters.  I'm working on some things at the moment--writing new stuff, editing old, goofing off on Tumblr--so accept this in the meantime :]

--------

Pink Bicycles

“Here, sugar.” 

She tossed the pack of Bicycle playing cards in his lap without so much as a glance.  He picked up the pack and immediately undid the cellophane wrapping, grinning at her back as she began unpacking her other purchases.  “Thanks, chère,” he said.  “You know, I’m always burning through these things.”

She tossed him a smirk over her shoulder and removed a glove.  “I know it.”

He flipped open the pack and took out the cards, flicking aside the two informational cards and the Jokers out of habit.  He grinned at the ace of spades, then turned the deck over in his hand.  He made a startled sound that made her turn back to face him.  He met her eye.  “These are pink,” he informed her.

“Fifteen cents of every purchase goes to support breast cancer research,” she replied.  “Read the packaging.”

“But…they’re pink.”  He picked the first card off the top of the deck and twirled it in his hand.  “I can’t use these.  I have a reputation, chère.”

“What’s it matter?  The money goes to a good cause.”  She crossed the room, pausing just long enough to peck him on the cheek.  She grinned at him.  “And, like you said, honey—you’re just gonna burn right through ‘em, anyhow.”

Bananarama

Happy Summer!  Also, possibly "In Bruges" fanfiction?  Oops.

-------- 

Bananarama

Ray turned down the radio and looked over at Chloe, his eyes wide with unfiltered shock.  “How can you not like Bananarama?” he demanded to know, pounding the beach blanket with his balled fist.  “It’s summer, for Christ’s sake.  This is summer music.  This is fun music.”

“It’s shit,” Chloe replied, shifting on the blanket.  “Pop music!  It’s nothing.”

 “‘Cruel Summer’ is a classic,” Ray argued.  “It was in The Karate Kid.”

  

She didn’t bother to look at him, or even to lift her sunglasses.  “Merde,” Chloe pronounced, with all the gravity of a death sentence.

 Ray scowled, waiting for further rebuttal.  When he got none, he turned the music back up and sang along for all he was worth.

All the Stars in Texas

Possibly to be submitted to my Fiction class?  I think so, yes.


Inspired mostly by Ludo's "All The Stars in Texas."  Also by a writing exercise in class that had us writing about divorce, which is always awesome.  I guess all I really did was name the characters.


One day, I'll dedicate this to Ludo.


- - - - - - - - - -

All the Stars in Texas

Texas Tom had robbed every bank between Chicago and NewOrleans.  He’d driven up and down hischunk of the world so many times that he thought he might just be king of itall.  He’d killed dozens of men, loved afew hundred women, and he’d probably left quite a few Tom Juniors floatingaimlessly around the American Midwest. But, so far, Tom only had one wife, and Maggie was the only thing in hislife that he couldn’t control.

History Repeats

Vampires and werewolves; oh joy!  I know, I know...but it was stuck in my head and it had to be written.  Enjoy!

- - - - - - - - - -

History Repeats

What fascinated Elsie Minor the most about Martin Bullen wasn’tthat he drank other people’s blood, or that he’d live forever.  Being with him meant that she, too, would beimmortal, but that wasn’t all that interesting, either.  She liked being your average, run-of-the-millwerewolf, and mortality had its perks. 

What most fascinated Elsie was the fact that she couldn’t readabout Martin Bullen in any textbook.  Shecouldn’t find his name on registers or confirm that what he said was true.  But why would he lie?  All he’d had to do was find himself in theright place at the right time, alone, with Elsie, trapped in the gloomy breakroom at the hospital, and, with a grin, he’d pulled her under his spell.  By his own admission, and she was willing totake his word for it, he hadn’t even had to use any of the tricks of hisspecies to win her over.  Elsie had towonder if she was truly that easy to read.

He’d started telling his story before she’d even revealed her loveof history.  If he was a con man (to behonest, he’d had centuries of practice), he was a damn good one, to be able torecognize such a personal trait so easily. But Elsie had learned, long ago, not to ask questions.  She liked to listen.  Martin didn’t mind doing all the talking.

The Modern Age

This is built from a writing exercise we had to do in my Intermediate Fiction class a few weeks ago.  The professor handed out a bunch of wedding announcements from the New York Times and, based on the picture of the couple and the provided information, we had to write the scene in which their marriage crumbled.  I literally got the most pretentious-sounding couple in history, and I knew they looked the type to split up over something stupid on their honeymoon, so I wrote that.

Names have been changed to protect these people I've never met (and to protect myself from a lawsuit).  I don't remember their real names, so I can't Google them to see if they've split up yet.  My money's on yes, but I just hope they're both still happy.

- - - - - - - - - - 

The Modern Age

The night before they were to leave Saint Tropez, Lauren dug her laptop out of her carry-on bag to check the news.  Three weeks of honeymoon bliss, ignoring the HD TV and limiting yourself to only a few, furtive glances at the cell, could be bad for business.  She logged into her email, skimmed a few notes and memos, but nothing seemed especially important.  No one had posted anything offensive, no scandals to cover up on the main page.  Her temp was doing a good job of holding down such a huge virtual fort—even if she hadn’t gone to Harvard, like Lauren had.

End of Days

Flash fiction about what happens between the gods of old when the world appears to be ending...again.

- - - - - - - - - -

End of Days

They had one of these Apocalypse scares once every few decades.  It was usually a false alarm—no mortal was that intuitive—but when the rumor mill started churning out Doomsday scenarios, the deities across all realms had to meet to discuss the possibility of The End.  They’d started renting out a boardroom at the United Nations Headquarters in Geneva a few years back and, despite the work to be done, it was usually a rather pleasant reunion.  No one was ever really worried about the Apocalypse.  And those that were found themselves breathing easier in the Alps.

Zeus was chosen to moderate the latest meeting.  “We all know why we’re here,” he said, unbuttoning his suit jacket and taking his seat at the head of the table.  “The world is in peril.  Again.”

Conviction

“I’m just wondering why no one likes me.”  The man in orange shifted in his seat, settling back into his preferred pose—straight back, feet flat on the floor, hands clasped before him.  Like an idol awaiting worship, like an award on a mantle.  He coughed daintily into his clasped fist, then placed his hand back on the table with its partner.  “Excuse me.  I’m a good guy.  I read.  I like cats.  I want to see the world.  I was always good with girls – no stuttering phase, no fumbling for words.  Everyone always loved me.”


- - - - - - - - - -


...like what you've read?  Then head on over to the catharsis and finish it!  While you're there, read over all the other great work we have to offer.  I'm so thankful to be a part of such an awesome publication and a wonderful staff, and we could use all the support we can get!  


So, please!  Read a few stories, poems, or essays, and pass them along!  Pieces change every month, and every month has a new theme, so be sure to check back in April for a brand new batch of entertainment.