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Voting closed: August 18, 2016, 05:17:59 AM

Author Topic: Voting Flash Fiction Challenge #121  (Read 1404 times)


  • Guest
Voting Flash Fiction Challenge #121
« on: August 08, 2016, 05:17:59 AM »

The barkeep said, “OK, gents. Last call. Limit two to a customer.”

There was only me and the other guy left. I knew him: the polka dot muumuu, pointed head, and four-day stubble. He was sitting at the other end of the bar.

“Join me, big guy,” he called. “Tell me your story.”

I did not expect he recognized me. I was well-known but keep a low profile.

I said, “Jack Reacher. And you are Zippy.”

“That’s right. King of the non sequitur. And you are a leg breaker.”

“So you’ve heard of me. Leg, collarbone, neck if needed. I am a good guy, defender of the weak.”

“You should get an outfit like mine if you want people to know you. Shit. Are we having Fun yet?” he muttered, clearly tired of the role of non sequitur King. He had been drinking doubles hard, looking into the abyss.

“You don’t have to be ‘on’ for me. I understand the need for downtime.”

“Is it true that you don’t have anything but a toothbrush and an ATM card?”

“Yeah. But it’s hard. I am drawn to antique samovars and it is hard not to get a suitcase and buy some.”

“At least you can jump a train and leave. I am hard to miss in this rig. And these balloon shoes are not made for hitching.”

“Hard being famous. But the perks are nice.”

“The women are shallow, just want to say they made it with Zippy the Pinhead. And people are always wanting me to say something offbeat. My brain never gets to rest.”

“Shallow women are better than none.”


I finished my scotch and got up.

“The highway’s calling. Been good talking to you.”

“My pleasure. I have a C-clamp in my pocket.”

“Another place, another time,” I said as I left.

“Break a leg,” he added, wanting to get the last word.

“Good one,” I said and darted out before he could reply.



Phantom whirled around on hearing the groan. He hurried back into the wreckage avoiding the corpses. It was Mandrake. He was still alive. Phantom quickly retrieved the gas mask and thrust it into Mandrake’s face. Mandrake took a deep breath and opened his eyes.

Phantom dragged him out of the wreckage and rested him against a rock.
“So are you feeling better now?” Phantom asked taking a deep breath from his own mask.

“Ya. I am ok now.” replied Mandrake. He then glanced at the wreckage.

“What about the others? “

“They are all dead.”

“All of them?”

“Yes, all of them. Flash Gordon, Lothar and the rest of them.”

“What the hell happened? The last I remember was enjoying the panoramic view from the window of the cruise shuttle and then kaboom…….You were in the front with the pilot weren’t you?”

“Yes. I was. We had to suddenly pass through a meteorite stream and were probably hit by one of them.”

They fell into a deep silence for a couple of minutes.

“You know why I finally agreed to get onto that cruise shuttle?” Mandrake asked breaking the silence.

“No. why?”

“Because they claimed it was un-crashable. You know, the un-crashable Titanium.”

Phantom nodded in understanding.

“So what do we do now? Can we contact earth?”

“I did check the comm panel on the shuttle. Everything’s broken. Hopefully the distress signal was sent before the crash. In that case we can expect a recovery team.”

“What if it was not sent?”

“Then we spend the last hours of our lives looking at the blue orb from here.”

“Hey, but you are phantom. Aren’t you supposed to be immortal? Huh!”

“This is a bad time for a joke Mandrake. You know very well we die just like everyone else. But what about you? You are a magician. Why don’t you perform some of your tricks to get us out of here? Huh!”

“Me? All I do is hypnotize people. I could hypnotize you right now and make you believe that you are back on earth. But that won’t really solve the problem ain’t it?”

Silence returned between the two of them. They turned towards the blue orb hanging in the black sky with hope in their hearts and a prayer on their lips.



Charlton opened the door of his trailer and rushed to the set for the final scene. The crew hadn’t returned from lunch break. Not a soul in sight.

“Where is everybody?”

“You don’t know?”

Charlton whirled to see who spoke. “What are you doing here?”

“It should be obvious, Chuck.” Roddy tossed the remains of a banana aside and approached.

“You died in scene four. And why are you still in costume?”

“It’s no costume, Chuck.”

Charlton squinted at the approaching simian and turned toward the Statue of Liberty half-buried in the sand. A faint glow on the horizon backlit the metal crown, casting a long shadow across the beach. A powerful hair-covered hand gripped his shoulder, spinning him around.

“What the hell is going on here?”

“I told you, Chuck. You should know. It’s in the script.”

Charlton grabbed Roddy’s rubbery jowls and yanked. Yanked again.

“What the—”

Roddy rubbed his face and reached in his jacket pocket. “Sorry Chuck. It’s true. And there is no return home for you. Here, have a banana.”

- - -

Thanks to the 3 entrants and good luck.

« Last Edit: August 18, 2016, 06:31:41 PM by fire-fly »


  • Guest
Re: Sticky: Voting Flash Fiction Challenge #121
« Reply #1 on: August 17, 2016, 05:11:40 AM »
1 day left to cast your vote.

Come on, folks. There's surely more than 12 of you who have an opinion.