Two Flash Fictions

by Michael Price

Apathy

Yeah, that was me that peed on your feet this morning, but I don’t care. I really don’t because, see, I’m a dog. Kinda cute, perhaps, but not always the most sanitary beast, if you know what I mean.

Did I happen to mention that I don’t care? My memory is kinda bad because, like I said, I’m a dog.

My mother, that… she was such a pain in the ass. And nobody knows more about pain in the ass than me.

She figured she was doing me a favor by bringing me into this fucking world. Hell, it’s boring. Not a whole lot goin’ on around here. Just eat, sleep and… well, you know.

Oh, and by the way, you should probably get somebody to clean that up over there because, again, I just don’t care.

Ya know, in the back of my mind, it seems like at one point—like when I was a pup, maybe—that I used to care. But that was a long time ago and, ya know, with the memory thing the way it is…

You may want to consider moving your feet.

See? There–I cared.

The Sudden Death Winner

“…Harvard with the ball at their own forty. Fourth and about a foot…Yale digging in…”

“Remember now, the Eli defense has to protect against the big play here, too–sudden death, any score’ll win it.”

“…Harvard’s gonna go for it…”

“Biggest play of the game, right here…”

“…and it’s already been such a great game.”

“Ya gotta know…everybody in the stadium knows who’s gonna get the ball in this situation…”

“Yup, right now ya gotta go with your best…”

“…Jimmy Goodhue time…”

“…forever and ever.”

“Can the fabulous freshman tailback do it yet one more time?”

“Everybody on their feet…the noise…my goodness, but it’s loud in here…”

“How much does he have left?…we’re about to find out. The true freshman has been spectacular all day long. All season long.”

“Goodhue the tailback in the I…now Harvard…Spellman under center, barking out signals…”

“Hard fought, excellent football game.”

“…the crowd on their feet…the snap…now the pitch back to Goodhue!…”

“Yup!”

“…sweeping wide right…looking for a block…there it is!…he’s got an opening! Into the secondary! First down and a lot more! Down the sideline!…”

“…there he goes…”

“…fifty…forty-five…”

“…forget it, it’s over…”

“…forty…”

“…he’s gone…”

“…thirty-five…thirty…”

“…boom, just like that…”

“…twenty-five…”

“…wait a minute!…”

“…now Clark giving chase! From across the field! Here comes Clark!…twenty!…”

“…he might have an angle!…”

“…fifteen!…Goodhue!…”

“…it’s a footrace!…”

“…checking back over his shoulder…ten!…”

“…Goodhue tiring!…”

“…Clark!…five!…”

“…look out!…”

“…AND HE’S HIT RIGHT AT THE GOAL LINE!!! OH MY!!! HE NEVER SAW HIM!!! A VICIOUS SHOT DELIVERED BY CLARK!!! GOODHUE’S DOWN, RIGHT AT THE FLAG!!! IT’S GONNA BE CLOSE!!! NO INDICATION YET, LET’S SEE WHAT THEY SAY!…”

* * * * *

“No pulse.”

“Boy, what a shame.”

“Never knew what hit him.”

“Boom. Just like that.”

“Boom is right.”

“Couldn’t have happened much quicker.”

“Ya know, I guess he scored.”

“Scored?”

“On that last play.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No. Won the damn game.”

“Boy. That fine line…”

“You can say that again. What time you got?”


Widely published in literary journals, Michael Price has been writing fiction for more than 30 years. He earned his BA in Theater from the University of Minnesota in 1980 and performed his own one-man one-act play “No Change of Address” to considerable acclaim at the 2012 MN Fringe Festival.
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