My entry in the latest Angry Hourglass Flash Frenzy contest. Your story had to be inspired by the photo below and the word count max was 360. I had a lot of fun writing this story and I received an Honorable Mention this week. The judge this week, Nancy Chenier, left some very detailed comments on all the stories, and you can read her thoughts on my tale at the end of this post.
Keep waving your hand, buddy. I see you. Yes, I’m ignoring you. Don’t fret, somebody will snatch you up. That snazzy suit of yours will help. Sorry, this cab is trawling for the pretty things with razor smiles.
She was standing on the corner, same as always. A body like chilled custard, firm with the proper amount of jiggle. She had the kind of face that required future alimony payments. Her painted nails flagged me down. I tried not to swoon.
“You want a blowjob?”
“Do you like your job?”
Damn. “It gives me some freedom, so yeah, it’s okay. What about you, you work?”
“I eat men.”
“I bet you do. How does that pay these days?”
“I could throw out numbers, but it would sink your heart. If you had made a better career choice, maybe I’d eat you, too.”
“I ain’t gullible, lady. I ain’t that easy.”
“No? That’s cute. What if I opened my coat and gave you a little glimpse? What would you do then?”
“I’d look, that’s what I’d do. Might even let my eyes linger, take a mental snapshot. Doesn’t mean I’d fall in love, sweetheart.”
“Is that why you drive by my corner like a yellow stalker everyday, ’cause you’re not easy? I’ve seen that look of yours before, I see it a hundred times a week. I own you, I own them all.”
“Boobs and a vagina, lady, plenty of those around. Fish in a barrel.”
“Yes, you drive a taxi for a living. I’m sure your social calendar is busting at the seams. I’d wager that you have an OK Cupid account. Am I right?”
She was right. “Please, that’s insulting. My bed squeaks on a nightly basis.”
“That’s hilarious. This is my stop, and your last chance at rapture. You want a teaser before I go? It might inspire you to be more successful.”
“Maybe next time.”
“How much I do owe you, mister lothario?”
“No charge. Have a nice day.”
“Thanks for the meal.”
I cranked a tune by Hall and Oates as she glided away, her backside swaying like a deserted boat in a typhoon.
Judge’s comment: The Comely Cannibal—The hard-boiled Chandler-esque figurative language seduced me, irresistible lines like: “chilled custard”, “the kind of face that required alimony payments”, “deserted boat in a typhoon”. That last one all the more delicious because she went away alone (“deserted”) despite her professed meal—the MC didn’t take the bait (yet). I loved the confusion over “blow job”—by the end we’re not sure if the cabbie misheard or she was really taunting him. The voice had me hooked despite the fact that we have two rather unsympathetic characters—well-played.