Today, the second installment of the first iteration of “The Pete Wood Challenge.” (Trust me, that sentence will make sense eventually.) This week we are presenting ten, count ’em, ten microflash stories, all of which sprang from a simple challenge: to write a 100-word story that revolved around the line:
“Would you like fries with that?”
Two yesterday, two more tomorrow, two more the day after that, and… well, you get the idea. Enjoy!
—brb
“Untitled,” by Carol Scheina
“Do you commonly ask if people want fries with their afterlife?” The old woman’s eyes twinkled with a smile.
Duane flinched. “I apologize. A lifetime of working fast food before I died. It sometimes slips out.” He continued listing the various afterlife accommodations. “Combo #11: endless koi ponds with a lily pad habitat. Combo #12: our giant forest package, as opposed to our regular forest package—”
“Actually,” the woman interrupted, “I’d like whatever place has fries in it. That sounds heavenly to me.”
Duane’s heart quivered. Maybe he’d finally found someone to spend eternity with.
¤
“Untitled,” by K. S. O’Neill
Mr. Green-face stares at me placidly.
I am a god, I remind myself. My duties are serious. After all, someone must care for the souls of beloved pets, no?
Which brings us to Mr. Green-face, so loved by a tiny girl in Alabama that on expiring he appeared here, in front of me. In a heaven of cats and dogs, my first frog.
I am a god, I remind myself. My duties are serious. After all, someone must care for the souls of beloved pets, no?
Which brings us to Mr. Green-face, so loved by a tiny girl in Alabama that on expiring he appeared here, in front of me. In a heaven of cats and dogs, my first frog.
“Okay, Mr. Green-face. A swamp, heat, humidity. Lily pads, muddy water, check.”
Mr. Green-face burps and frowns.
I wrack my brain. What else does a frog want?
I wrack my brain. What else does a frog want?
Wait!
“Mr. Green-face, would you like flies with that?”
¤
K.S. O'Neill is three Shoggoths in a trench coat, probably.
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