He was leaning just inside the icebox to grab his next beer when she appeared in the kitchen, wearing a flannel shirt and a pair of sweatpants. Winter was setting in so she had put her summer threads away and was in the process of trying on her cozier, warmer clothes.

“Is my butt getting bigger?” She asked.

He had one hand on top of the refrigerator door and was in mid-reach when she hit him with that sledgehammer of a question. He learned his lesson about lying to her when he took five bucks from her purse. The things she did with crazy glue while he was asleep. No way would he lie to her again.

He stopped, glanced over his shoulder and gave a deadpan reply, “Looks that way to me.”

The last thing he heard was her uttering, “asshole”. That warm and wet sensation of what must have been his urine being soaked up by his pants at last relinquished itself to the furious activities of the brain going through the process of physiological bankruptcy. Fear of death was now acceptance, and he was left waiting for that last neurological light to burn out.

As he waited, he figured out what protruded from the center of his back was the butcher knife she used for everything from dicing onions, to prying apart those frozen beef patties.

Then the wait, along with everything else, was over.

© 2009, Alex Crabtree. All rights reserved.

Years ago I started writing Flash Fiction for just the sheer enjoyment of writing, and now it has turned into a full blown addiction. I can't quit the horse, man! Another dirty little secret about me is my ability to write all kinds of web content. SEO content, articles, blog posts, manifests; you name it, I'll write it. Looking for some help? My gun hangs at r.alex.crabtree@gmail.com

Alex Crabtree

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Tags: extreme, Fiction, flash, Writing

This entry was posted on September 5, 2009 at 8:19 am and is filed under Fiction, Flash Fiction. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.