Friday, February 22, 2013
Flash Fiction Friday: My Pretty Plan's Working
My Pretty Plan's Working
Positive thinking, it works. Laying her silky hand on mine in that kind of a way that I said I would die first. Shockwave-riding, evermore-gliding, refreshments. "I never thought, I was so stirred up," she says, "now go on, and I won't do so any more. You tell me what to do, and whatever you say I'll have to do it."
"Well," I says, "it's a rough gang, them two frauds, and I'm fixed so I got to travel with them a while longer, whether I want to or not -- I'd rather not tell you why. We eating Wendy's burgers again; and if you was to blow on them, this town would get me out of their claws, and I'd be all right; but there'd be another person that you don't know about who'd be in big trouble. Well, we got to save him, ain't we? Of course. Nova mob. Mob men in hats. Well, then, we won't blow on them."
Saying them words put a good idea in my head. Playing double game of Gnip Gnop at sunrise, near the field. Near highway. Gas station lit being on, rebounding -- battery energy, clear Freon rise. I see how maybe I could get me and Jim Morrison rid of the frauds; get them jailed here, and then leave. But I didn't want to run the raft in the daytime without anybody aboard to answer questions but me; so I didn't want the plan begin to working pretty till late to-night.