Cities and suburbs, real and imaginary.

Monday, April 23, 2007

in honor of international pixelated technopeasant day


i won´t crosspost this at myspace due to some legal stuff that you don´t need to worry about, but here, for your enjoyment, is a bit of my real fiction for free just for the enjoyment of cyberspace writing. this one is some flash fiction that has only got collected one rejection letter. instead of sending it out again, i´m sharing it here, because i am a pixelated technopeasant.

"Ein Euro, Bitte"

We were late. We were late. We were late.

The ladies had already made their way to the
restaurant. They texted us. They texted us. They
texted us.

We texted back: "almost @ bus stop." "Hold on."
"Get drinks."

The Captain asked me if his tie looked stupid. I
told him we looked stupid because we were running to
catch a bus in suits and stupid ties.

We missed the bus.

The Captain kicked the bus stop's hutch. He
cursed in French, because he was trying not to say the
F-word anymore. His girlfriend didn't know French
curse words, so he used those instead.

I scoured the timesheets at the bus stop, looking
for a bus that had the same stop, and might be here
any second.

(A man touched my sleeve. He was filthy, and old
like I'd never be. His shoes stank from where I stood
- ruined, white tennis shoes that reaked of rotten
leather. He had this arm curled up like he had had a
stroke. One of his feet turned inward like it belonged
to the person sitting next to him. "Ein euro, bitte?"
he said, "Ein euro?" I pulled back, disgusted that he
had touched my sleeve.)

The Captain flipped the old guy off. "Just ignore

I looked down at the man. I rummaged in my pocket
for one euro coin.

Another bus came. The Captain grabbed my arm, and
pulled me on board. He screamed our destination at the
bus driver as if saying it louder would correct his
English pronunciation to the German driver. He was
pissed because we were late. We were late. We were


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