#Brain Curd 129

[notsocheezy]

Brain Curd #129

Brain Curds are lightly edited flash fiction - practically first drafts - posted daily (haven't missed one yet!) and sometimes written with the express intention of being terrible… but, you know, in an endearing way. Please like and reblog if you enjoy - the notes keep me going!

The party was absolutely packed with people, all there to celebrate Gary’s birthday. Winona and Hector mingled on the couch.

“So I asked my mom, ‘What if the tourists win?’” Hector giggled at his own anecdote.

“That’s soooo funny,” Winona said, easily able to because she was not laughing. “Let me tell you a story.” She downed the rest of her beer and tossed the red plastic cup toward the trash bag in the corner. “So there I was, minding my own business, sitting at a bar, when I looked out the window and saw a group of snarling hug-sniffers.”

“A group of… what?”

“Save your questions for afterward. Anyway, I’m watching them invest all over each other in the parking lot, right? But then they saunter over to my truck and start ordering the whole damn thing! They reticulated my pickup!”

“I’m having trouble visualizing this.”

“Yeah, I was too, man. And I was looking right at them! They retired on top of the dumpster and started chowing down on epithets. Weirdest thing I’d ever seen, so I walk outside to tell them off, right, and they hurl candy bar wrappers at me!”

“Epithet is a kind of candy?”

“No, no, pay attention. They got the wrappers from the dumpster. There had been a candy bar scarfing competition the previous day. That’s how I remember the date, it was February 30th.”

“That’s not a real day.”

“I beg to differ. My sister got married on February 30th of 2017. Are you suggesting my sister isn’t married?”

“I don’t know your sister.”

“That’s what I thought. Stay in your lane, pal. Anyways, the hug-sniffers. Those economy goblins were throwing all manner of garbage at my head, so I ran to my truck and tried to start the engine. But it wouldn’t turn over! One of ‘em must have drained out all the starter fluid!”

“Listen, I know for a fact there’s no such thing as starter fluid. It’s electric.”

“My F-150 runs on gasoline, friendo. Please don’t assume. I had to run over to the AutoZone across the street to pick up a bottle of starter, but before I got back, the hooligans fertilized the vehicle to pieces! So I sprayed ‘em with the starter fluid and set the lot on fire!”

“Oh my god…”

“It’s not a big deal, lay off. But I lost my lighter, which was just the cherry on the pie, you know? Got no truck, got no lighter, and the bartender poured out the margarita I’d left on the counter. It was a contender for the worst day of the solstice.”

“I’ll be honest with you, I have no idea what any of what you just said even was. Did you just admit to arson?”

Winona smiled and shrugged her shoulders. “What’s a little arson between friends?”

“I’m the District Attorney! I think I have to indict you.”

“I’d like to see you try. I used to be the President.”

“President of what?”

“President of the District Attorney Club. I know all those guys: Seth Riegler, Bobby Dentistry, Mister Phlegm, all of ‘em. We go way back.”

Hector sat for a moment in silence. “You know Seth?”