General Flash Fiction posted September 28, 2022


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Flash Fiction Club Submission

Off the Cuff

by Thomas Blanks


“We’re going to have to find a locksmith,” Leslie said.

“Or a cop,” Trevor suggested. “I mean, they are handcuffs, right?”

“Fur-lined handcuffs! I’m not going to listen to judgmental jokes from some redneck fascist.”

“Leslie, how do you really feel about the police? Holy crap! You sound like a college student from Berkeley in 1969.”

“No cops, Trevor!”

“We can try to find a police equipment and uniform store, but this is a pretty small town. A locksmith might have a cuff key, but they will charge a hundred dollars to come here. A cop would be free.”

“I said no cops! Besides, why don’t you have the handcuff key?”

“Listen, Houdini, this is not my fault. Nobody asked you to slap those onto your wrists,” Trevor said. “I bought those as a joke for a meeting at work. They have never been used. I have no idea what happened to the key.”

“You have to help me.”

“I don’t have to do anything. In fact, march your cop-hating, blame-finding ass out of my house. Get out of them yourself? I didn’t sign up to babysit a dipshit!”

“You can’t talk to me that way, Trevor.”

“I already did, Leslie.”

“You are such an ass!”

“You put handcuffs on yourself without checking to see if there was a key. You refuse to let me ask the police to help, even though every cop in town has a handcuff key, because you have an irrational hatred of the whole profession. You think this is somehow my fault, and I have some obligation to help you out of your self-inflicted problem. Wake up, Sunshine!” Trevor yelled.

“You have lost your mind!” Leslie said.

“And you have lost your only friend. Now I understand why no one likes you.”

“Who says no one likes me?”

“I do because you have no other friends.”

“I do so!”

“Name one, Leslie.”

“Sandra.”

“Sandra Pike?”

“Yes.”

“She calls me weekly and tells me how stupid you are,” Leslie.

“You’re lying.”

“Nope.”

“Then why does she keep going with me to the gym?”

“Because you pick her up, drop her off, and gas is still almost four dollars a gallon,” Trevor said.

“I know what you’re doing,” Leslie said, “but it won’t work.”

“I told you what I am doing. I’m kicking you out of my house. Goodbye!”

“You expect me to drive like this?”

“All I expect you to do, LESLIE, is leave!” Trevor walked to the front door, opened it, and held it until Leslie walked out.




Recognized


Flash Fiction Club Event Submission that must begin with, "We're going to have to find a locksmith."

Club entry for the "Locked Out!" event in "Flash Fiction and Short Shorts".  Locate a writing club.
Pays one point and 2 member cents.


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© Copyright 2022. Thomas Blanks All rights reserved.
Thomas Blanks has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.