Flash Fiction (a Hundred Words or Fewer) #21: Race Realist

Sluggerz Sports Bar:

“I heard Ms. Bitch got knocked up,” Denton said.

“Nooo, that virginal young maiden?” Jeff said.  “You know who did it?”

“Some black guy, allegedly her fee-yon-say.”

Pause.

“Are you a race realist?” Jeff asked.

“Hell yeah.”

“Me too.”  Pause.  “So what’s your ethnic background?”

“Anglo-Irish.  What’s yours?”

“Anglo-Russian.”

“Yeah, here’s to Russia.  The biggest white power in the world.”

They sip their beers.

“Don’t get too drunk, you Irish bastard,” Jeff said.

“You shouldn’t gulp your beer.  It’s not Putin’s sperm,” Denton said.

Meanwhile, Ms. Birch and her fiancé looked on-line at home for baby clothes.

Copyright © 2017 by David V. Matthews

Flash Fiction (a Hundred Words or Fewer) #20: Free Helicopter Ride

Denton’s supervisor, Ms. Birch, caught him posting on his alt-right blog as she walked past his cubicle.  She told him to get back to work and left.

“Ms. Bitch needs a free helicopter ride,” he told his coworker Jeff later in the break room, using alt-right argot.  (South-American dictatorships used to eliminate their political opponents by dropping them from helicopters into the sea.)

“No, you should give her Ebola instead,” Jeff replied.  “Maybe she’d infect a bunch of snowflakes.  More cost-effective, in other words.”

What a true friend, Denton thought as he reached for a cruller.  True friendship rocks.

Copyright © 2017 by David V. Matthews

 

Flash Fiction (a Hundred Words or Fewer) #19: Caesura

Ms. Greenberg called it her caesura: her daily break in her eight-hour workplace melody—more like a dirge, she sometimes joked.  Fancy vocabulary words added syllabic class to any day, she felt, although a steaming cappuccino from the break room’s coffeemaker—a sleek gray machine that looked futuristic in her blocky beige office building—also helped improve her life, in a joltin’ kinda way.

Some coffeemakers (but not that one) now have Bluetooth built in, she thought during her last caesura.  Her electric toothbrush had Bluetooth—a Bluetoothbrush, heh.  She sipped her cappuccino and thanked Jebus for wordplay, heh heh.

Copyright © 2017 by David V. Matthews

Flash Fiction (a Hundred Words or Fewer) #18: Literally Hitler

Over dinner at her favorite Greek restaurant, Denton’s girlfriend of six months dumped him because he’d “grown too fucking right-wing,” as she told him in that low, affectless manner he used to find seductive for whatever reason.  (They’d met in 2016 on a pro-Trump dating site.)  “Have fun with your alt-Reich buddies,” she said, getting up to leave.

“I will, bitch, ’cause I’m literally Hitler, ha ha,” he said, quoting an alt-right meme that spoofs whiny libtard bullshit by facetiously comparing someone or something to you-know-who.  (Denton thought the shrimp Santorini he’d just eaten ranked a little higher than Stalin.)

Copyright © 2017 by David V. Matthews (revised March 15-16, 2017)

Cherry

So I’m walkin’ down the street yesterday, mindin’ my own business, when I see this hippie kid.  He looks real grimy and has dreadlocks down to his butt, and he’s wearin’ one of those ponchos with the Inca designs on them.  Have I mentioned it’s the hipster part of town?  Lots of hippie panhandlers there.  Hipsters and hippies, ha ha.  So anyways, he’s sittin’ on the sidewalk cross-legged, and he doesn’t say anything, he’s just holdin’ a sign, a sheet of cardboard from a cardboard box, and the sign says I NEED MONEY FOR BOOZE AND DRUGS.  So I tell him, I say “I admire your honesty. Have you gotten much money?” And he says “Gimme some money, and I’ll tell you.”  Smart kid.  So I give him a dollar, and he says “Thanks.  I’ve just sat down here. You’re the first person I’ve met today.” So I laugh and say “Well, I’m honored,” and he laughs, and I walk away lookin’ amused, but inside, I’m actually pissed, ’cause I’ve never liked poppin’ someone’s cherry, so to speak.  Too creepy.

Copyright © 2017 by David V.Matthews

 

Flash Fiction (a Hundred Words or Fewer) #17: Anti-businesslike

At the library today, I browsed through a new release: a memoir from a sixteen-year-old girl who’d had a bicycling accident five years earlier and permanently turned into a quadriplegic.  She offers lots of advice about overcoming adversity, though I learned something else from her: never, ever do anything.  Anything can ruin your life.

Anyway, the book has a coauthor.  Did he work simply for the money, or did he have an emotional investment in her story (no pun intended)?  If the latter, did he drink heavily, smoke lots of weed, or do anything else to alleviate his anti-businesslike heart?

 

Copyright © 2017 by David V. Matthews

 

Flash Fiction (a Hundred Words or Fewer) #16: Delicious Irony

As a longtime alt-rightist, Denton sometimes wished his movement didn’t rely so heavily on code. He had always considered himself honest, but he could also understand the need to avoid losing his social-media accounts by writing “Google” instead of the N-word, “Skype” instead of the K-word, et cetera; due to decades of liberal brainwashing, most Americans had turned into snowflakes, incapable of handling the truth about race. (Denton didn’t have a drop of non-Aryan blood, nor had he ever boned a non-Aryan chick, nor had he ever even remotely considered boning a guy. We readers can’t always enjoy delicious irony.)

Copyright © 2017 by David V. Matthews

 

Flash Fiction (a Hundred Words or Fewer) #15: Showering

PornHole, my favorite Internet site for free smut, now offers nine different golden shower videos starring nine different Donald Trump impersonators.  I don’t know who does the showering in these videos, because I’ve never watched them and shall never do so, not only because I voted for Jill Stein, but because depicting Trump as sexually-uninhibited pretty much normalizes him and his ultra-right-wing buddies.  Plus he’s bragged about his carnal exploits.  Not showing him getting any would piss him off more, no pun intended.  (By the way, even radical guys such as me like jerking off.  Even the revolution needs Kleenex.)

Copyright © 2017 by David V. Matthews

Flash Fiction (a Hundred Words or Fewer) #14: PepWay

You know the meme “If it exists, there is porn of it—no exceptions”? Well, I found an exception after half a minute of Googling: Peppercorn Way, that family show that had run for maybe eight episodes when I was eight, during the summer of ’75. I had watched that show religiously; its countrified sappiness had distracted me from the slow-motion collapse of my parents’ marriage. I’m almost tempted to write dirty PepWay fanfic and post it somewhere, even though probably no one but me remembers that show; true artistes march to their own drummers (though I prefer drum machines).

Copyright © 2017 by David V. Matthews