A GOOD FLAPJACK
"OH, BABY!"
WHOOSH! Billy felt the blade fly past his left ear. A bad start to another day.
He glanced around his kitchen. Because obviously someone in the room didn’t like him. And he was right.
“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?” he shouts.
“YOU BASTARD!” she screams.
Damn. Had he forgotten her birthday? Had he cheated on her again with that fish-feeder down at Seaworld?
“Honey, I’m sorry,” he says from a crouched position. “I just forgot. And, uh, she’s nothing to me—she just tosses the trout.”
“WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?” Her eyes are like spinning marbles. “I DON’T EVEN KNOW YOU!”
He pauses. Is she being dramatic? Is she saying I don’t know the person you’ve become? Or does she really not know me? Certainly, she doesn’t look familiar.
He smiles, and straightens up a bit. “Yes, I suppose we don’t really know one another… I mean, in a deeper sense… I mean, in the way two drifting souls might meet in a lonely, churning sea… I mean, uh, who are you, anyway?”
The anger in her eyes begins to fade. And why not? She’s in the wrong house, trying to assassinate the wrong guy—but he’s pretty hot. And more or less naked. She flips back her strands of windy black hair, and relaxes her heaving chest.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I thought you were someone else.”
He grins, and puffs out his pectorals. “Well, I’m sure it was an honest mistake.” He motions toward a nearby frying pan. “Would you like some pancakes?”
She sighs, and sees fireworks igniting, and hears the pounding rhythm of advancing explosions.
“Yes,” she says. “I’d like that a lot. There’s nothing I love more than a good flapjack.”
Tags: fiction, joe canzano
blog fiction | joeythesquash | 
August 19, 2009 10:46 am
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