Friday Fictioneers #53: this is not no greyhound.

fictioneers

We were all set, headed fer Mexico, straight down route 5, I had my hat, then I remembered the book, I’d left it in my bag, inside was the ticket. The driver takes me down there and opens the hatch and I finds it, but as I’m rummaging around my bottle falls out. He says, I can’t let you on with that sir, this is Jefferson, this is not no Greyhound, this is a Christian company. The office will offer a refund if you asplain. So I never did get on. Wouldn’t be here talkin to you if I had.


Friday Fictioneers is a weekly photo-prompt flash fiction challenge, curated by the wonderful Rochelle Wishoff-Fields, and open to anybody. Full details here.

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Friday Fictioneers #52: I’m exactly similar myself.

rainy-night

What the hell are you doing out there in the rain?

She was calling to him from inside. She’d stepped from the shower, was towelling her hair.

You like the rain?

He glanced back, then leaned on the banister, shook droplets from his hair.

Yeah, he said.

I’m exactly similar myself.

He lit a cigarette, smoked, shivered.

You’re smoking again?

Seemed like a good day to start.

So what’s out there?

Not much. A U-haul trailer. One of those Tony Soprano cars. Traffic circle. Lights. Weather.

No penguins?

No.

Do you think we’ll ever see them again?

I don’t know.