Friday, May 16, 2008

Splotchy Has Another Story Meme

Cool, just like JJ's Friday Flash Fiction of old, Splotchy has another viral story meme. Bubs caught it and he's dishing it out to the rest of the Internet.

Splotchy wrote...

I had been shuffling around the house for a few hours and already felt tired. The doorbell rang. I opened the front door and saw a figure striding away from the house, quickly and purposefully. I looked down and saw a bulky envelope. I picked it up. The handwriting was smudged and cramped, and I could only make out a few words.

Bubs wrote...

I looked up and down the street but didn’t see any delivery truck, or any car for that matter. No FedEx, no UPS , no creepy-looking porno'd-out conversion van with a half-assed delivery service sign taped to its side. Nothing. It's like delivery man just disappeared. I stepped back inside, re-set the deadbolts and took a closer look at the envelope.

Mentally I ran through the checklist of letter bomb warning signs. The handwriting on the envelope, smudged and cramped as it was, was laid out in a tiny, obsessively neat block lettering. It practically screamed recently-de-institutionalized loner with time on his hands. No ticking or whirring sounds, that’s good. No odd smells, no leaks or stains on the package. Check. Weight seemed evenly distributed, that’s good too. I decided to open it.

Inside I found a plane ticket to Pensacola, a business card for a lawyer in Niceville, five crisp $100 bills and a four page handwritten note. Well. This was different. I poured a cup of coffee, threw some meat to the dogs to stop em barking, and sat down to read.

I wrote...

Now I knew that Niceville is the home of Mullet Festival and by that, I mean the fish and not the god awful hairstyle. Also, Elgin Air Force base was just a hop, skip and a jump from there, but beyond that? I’ve never been in that part of woods nor do I believe that I knew anybody down there.

The four page letter was a missive from my friend from the first Gulf War, Henry Lemon. The lay out of the four pages was odd; the first page said “this money is just a small example of the money to be had.”

The second page said “opportunities and riches abound here!”

The third said “I know that I can trust you to keep this in confidence, but if you somehow have changed since the time we saved each others lives? Know that there is far more money to be made than what is in this envelope.

The fourth page said “now, get down here as soon as you can. I need a good and loyal man, that I know will have my back.”

And now I'm tagging:

Quin
Is That So Wrong
Johnny Dollars

Labels: , ,

8 Comments:

Blogger Bubs said...

You're onto something. There's definitely a lot of adventures to be found at the mullet festival.

Well done!

Sat May 17, 07:52:00 AM PDT  
Blogger Quin Browne said...

i'm here to pick up my assignment.

i want you to know the dog almost ate it...

the laptop.

seriously.

Sat May 17, 08:38:00 AM PDT  
Blogger Quin Browne said...

okay, here's mine....and i'll post the full thing, with yours, on my blog tonight.

Sadly, the only good and loyal man who would have his back was our mutual friend, my roommate, Hal Stuef, but, I figured, fuck it, and took the plane ticket, the money, packed a bag and left.

Settling into my seat on Good Luck Sucker Airline, I had a drink and a couple of bags of their famous bagged snack nuts. Sure, the bags read PanAm, and there was that musty scent to them... but, you got hooked on the flavour. Some said it was a rare mold that built up in the snack bags—whatever, they were a sought after snack. One that let you forget the time, space and on occasion, you saw the face of God.

Tying my seat belt snugly around my waist, I cranked the window closed and hoped I didn’t have one that whistled this flight. I relaxed, the PanAm snack nuts had that effect, and closed my eyes, I thought about what was ahead…. Henry, good ol’ Henry! After this long, it would be great to see him again! The last time we’d been together, we were both wearing girdles, bras and running for our lives. Yeah, those were the days, my friend!

I turned to my seat partner, Gandhi, and mentioned the white outfit he had on was rocking. He nodded and said it was a little somthing he'd put together for the flight.

Next thing I knew, we were landing...

Sat May 17, 08:57:00 AM PDT  
Blogger Writeprocrastinator said...

Bubs,

"Well done!"

Thank you.

I don't do well at festivals, I'm a drunk a**h*le magnet.

Quin,

Now I know where the spirit of Hunter S. Thompson has moved on, he certainly resides in you or you've channeled him, I've very impressed!

Sat May 17, 05:48:00 PM PDT  
Blogger John said...

I am exhausted tonight, but I threw this together for you WP. I'll edit later, but here you go...



Stepping down the ramp to the tarmac, the humid air smacked me in the face look a hat dish towel. My loud Hawaiian shirt, brown Bermudas and straw hat assisted my pasty skin in screaming ”tourist” to any who might notice me. I was just heading toward the doors to the baggage terminal when I heard the faint whistling from the air above.

Shielding my eyes from the white intensity of the Florida sun, I could just pick out five black specks high in the sky coming from the direction of Elgin Air Force base.

The flight-paths for the specks were all wrong for any aircraft or missile the base might possibly have in their inventory. Damn it, I haven’t even had a chance to get a decent drink yet.

“Henry Lemon” is the cover name for the Agency and the Agency has their fingers into everything the NSA, FBI, CIA, and every other alphabet can’t handle. “Opportunities and riches abound here!” is standard for code for “enemy incursion.”

“I know that I can trust you to keep this in confidence, but if you somehow have changed since the time we saved each others lives? Know that there is far more money to be made than what is in this envelope.” This means we have alien invaders again taking over the brains of human beings – again.

“Now, get down here as soon as you can. I need a good and loyal man, that I know will have my back” is pretty self-evident and just means to get my ass moving.

“Rosebud,” No sooner had I whispered the codeword than my cybernetic implants activated and my forearms opened to reveal the mini-rail guns held within. A quadriplegic since a landmine have me apart in Afghanistan, the Agency had rebuilt me with all kinds of sweet boys-toys.

The specks have covered a lot of territory by now and I could see they were five men wearing Thaitana rocket packs and were bristling with all sort of weapons modules. I hate Thaitana MindSlugs and their human hosts. You can’t get the little bastards out without twenty hours of microsurgery and a hell of a lot of prayer.

These poor soldiers just became expendable.

Twisting around, my first burst of fire rupture the wing fuel tanks in the plane I just arrived it. The resulting fireball incinerates two of the rocket men, but it also kills the flight crew and a dozen passengers. Their families will get wonderful letters explaining that they were killed defending their country.


JDC

Sat May 17, 10:09:00 PM PDT  
Blogger Writeprocrastinator said...

Johnny Dollars,

Oooooh, sci-fi! I want a rail gun too (minus the quadriplegic action)! Great job! When you post it up on your blog, I'll link it with Katie's interview with Katherine.

Sat May 17, 10:38:00 PM PDT  
Blogger Splotchy said...

The second page said “opportunities and riches abound here!”

Every time I respond to messages like this I wake up in an alley with only my underwear and a concussion.

Thanks for being infected. I hope things go well for the protagonist.

Mon May 19, 07:56:00 AM PDT  
Blogger Writeprocrastinator said...

Splotchy,

I think I've welcomed you before, but just to be sure, welcome to this dusty corner of the web.

"Every time I respond to messages like this I wake up in an alley with only my underwear and a concussion."

Interesting, I was actually thinking about the organ harvest angle, but your tribulations wouldn't scare the female members of this audience, the way that my fiction does.

"Thanks for being infected. I hope things go well for the protagonist."

No, thank you for keeping flash fiction going and providing a wonderful starter paragraph.

Mon May 19, 08:18:00 AM PDT  

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