grab and go
*This is my 100th story posted here at LunchBreak Fiction! I’m deep in the tunnels of Vita-Life when I hear the alarm. Another walk through, I’m supposing. What do I care? Just yesterday I walked out of the Aldridge Room with a fancy notebook explaining my severance package. Seems there’s no need for three... Continue Reading →
I’m stuck in this goofy time travel app I got through the IPhone B3. It must have a glitch or a virus or something because I selected the sixties. This is not the sixties. But I’m at my school, Wentworth High, and it’s dark out out. I’m roaming around a library full of worthless IBM computers with... Continue Reading →
I grew up privileged. An only child in a fancy house with a view of the ocean. I roamed its halls, and imagined its many tidy rooms filled with brothers and sisters. Dot was always there, anticipating my needs. She always knew what I wanted to eat before my stomach grumbled. She tucked me in... Continue Reading →
*A Continuation of Case Work, posted on 11/22/16... “Right here, Barb. Pull in right here.” “Nolan, chill. Not my first rodeo, you know?” “See there, 1832 Writersblock Ave.” “I know where it is, Nolan.” “Mr. Reinbough’s lair.” “Lair…Really Nolan?” “What?” “Just the way you talk. It’s going to drive me to drink is all.” “Not that again.... Continue Reading →
This trailer ain’t but so big, and with four girls, it’s all I can do to keep them from fighting every day. It’s summertime, hot, and they mope around, a hurricane of blonde heads, whining, complaining about how they’re bored, painting my toenails and hogging the TV. Otherwise just being pests. If only I’d had... Continue Reading →
*Click to hear this story read over at Immortal Works. I take my desk roughly two minutes after the bell rings. I start by flipping through a Vonnegut novel that makes hardly more sense than my profession. They trickle in, slow, casual, all with that strut and a laugh. The shield that masks the... Continue Reading →
Alex Trebek rambles on, another gracious anecdote that carries us through commercial break. I’d always thought these little chat-ups were fake, but the guy is full of himself, extolling the virtues of Malaysian fruits to the giggly delight of Sue, a teacher from Milwaukee. My mike pack digs into my sweaty back. It’s the first taping... Continue Reading →
“You’ll never get me to tell you where the jewels are.” Mom’s little party is popping. Candles, wine, drunk wannabe writers. Mom-the-truly-awful-playwright likes to get buzzing and have people “bring her writing to life.” Now, Sci-Fi-Eddie is fending off the advances of Lydia-the-memoir-writer. Eddie’s taken the role of Clyde Clisbee, a down on his luck... Continue Reading →
It was the bottom of the fifth, during the Winkton Wingtips/Puttingham Red Sox game—just as the horizon treated the fans of Henkin Stadium to a dreamy pink backdrop—that Jimmy Spencer stepped up to the plate for the Wingtips. Bill Hargis made the call from the booth. “Hey Wingtip fans, remember that Thursday is WPD night, so... Continue Reading →
“Barb, I think we’ve got it.” “Got what?” “Everything. It’s all here. The MoneyMakers case.” “Remind me again, that one?” “Jeez, Barb, what’s going on with you? And why are we meeting at this dive bar at six in the afternoon?” “Evening.” “Whatever. MoneyMakers, I’ve got it, now we just need—” “Moneymakers…Moneymakers…” “Are you serious... Continue Reading →
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