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Boss’s Girl
October 23, 2006 in 299 Words, Books, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Literature, Poetry, Short stories, Stories, Very Short Novels, Writing | Tags: Boss, Business, Office, Violence, Work | by davidbdale | 3 comments
Stepping from the long car outside his office building, Number2 straightened the crease of his trouser leg, freeing it from the tongue of his shoe, and turned toward the private entrance. The freed pants leg flapped like a penitent in the wind. He considered his reflection in a mirrored wall and wondered could the shortness of his stride cost him a promotion? He must have meant pennant. Number2 delivered a full-armed slap, putting his shoulder into the effort, across the upper half of the doorman’s face. Morning, Jimmy, he said. Morning, sir, said the doorman. Boss in yet, Jimmy? Yes, sir, said the doorman. Bright and early. Number2 punched the doorman just above the belt buckle. Did I ask you when she got in, Jimmy? No, sir, said the doorman. No, sir, you didn’t. Number2 walloped the receptionist with a fist to the side of her head and picked up his overnight packages. Morning, darling. Morning, sir. With a knee brought swiftly from behind, he caught the elevator operator unaware between the hams and slammed his body against the wall. Eleven, Jack. Eleven, sir? Number2 banged Jack’s head against the cluster of buttons 21 through 29. Boss in? Number2 asked the boss’s girl. She’s waiting for you, sir. Number2 tipped her chair, spilled the girl against a bank of cabinets, and entered the boss’s office. Number1 was standing on her desk. Her head and shoulders disappeared through an open frame in the ceiling. Need help, boss? Asked Number2. Number1 clocked Number2 with a quick kick to the head. I think I got it, said Number1. Number2 crashed to the floor and lay there quietly, awaiting further instructions. He looked up at the boss’s legs, silently considering. His lip was beginning to swell. Thanks for coming in early, she said.
Copyright ©1997
Pre-Crash Checklist
October 20, 2006 in 299 Words, Books, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Literature, Poetry, Short stories, Stories, Very Short Novels, Writing | Tags: Airport, Crash, Danger, Death, Monologue, Speech | by davidbdale | 2 comments
Slip the flat metal end into the buckle and pull the loose end to secure the belt around your hips. Get and remain comfortable. Passenger attitude is an essential component of airworthiness, which is not to say we could cause a crash by thinking about one, but why risk it. This aircraft is equipped with floor level lighting which will guide you toward the exit when the cabin fills with noxious smoke so thick you won’t see the wall of flame approaching row by row. Or at least it was designed to be so equipped and was once certified to have been so equipped, but the failure of a simple thermal switch never tested by the team subcontracted by this airline to conduct routine inspections will prevent even that laughably inadequate safety feature from providing you any life-sustainment. Sudden loss of cabin pressure, an event so unlikely it happens to fewer than one million passengers a year, will trigger trap doors in the overhead bin, spilling oxygen masks to some passengers. Yours will be functional. The thin plastic supply hose won’t kink as so many do in testing nor melt in the intense heat of the advancing inferno, but you’ll have swallowed so much smoke you’ll merely cough into the mask and, heaving forward, tear it from the pump. If only you had kept your belt secured around your hips. Blown backward by the blast from the baggage compartment, several seats from Row 8 will be wedged incongruously between the cabin ceiling and lucky Row 13, sealing off the exit door nearest you. Small comfort your seat cushion is a flotation device! Thank you for choosing to violate gravity with us today and if there is anything we can do to make you more uncomfortable, please hesitate to ask.
Copyright ©1997
Very Short Novels 