Emilthrii and Stalarovyotep …a Christmas Tale of the Macabre for Friday Flash Fics by Jeff Baker. December 24th, 2021.

Emilthrii and Stalarovyotep

by Jeff Baker

The sunsets were getting earlier so on the evening before the New Moon I took the shovel and went out to the Northeast corner of my backyard. I glanced at the darkened, cloudy sky, the deep red stripe of sunset I glanced at my neighbors houses. A few lit windows, a few streetlights but mostly the dark of late Fall.

It was a small yard so I didn’t have a lot of trouble finding the exact spot over the brown grass and leaves that always made me think of driving to my Grandparents for Thanksgiving when I was a kid. But it was December and I was no longer so young.

It took me a few minutes of digging. The ground was cold and hard but not impenetrable. I turned over the earth and I saw the first: light blur, red, green and pink. I set it to the side and ran my hand through the small pile of dirt I had turned up. I resumed digging. I didn’t worry that an animal had dug it up; animals stayed away from this spot.

It was darker when I saw the small chunk of dark green in my overturned dirt. I picked it up: small, ceramic like the other one only this one was glazed a deep sea-green.

Stalarovyotep.

I gently put it in my jacket pocket. Then I reached down for the other one, the pink and green and blue and red one and placed it in my other pocket. I pushed the earth back into the hole with my shovel.

I walked up to the back door of my house, kicked some loose dirt off the shovel and propped the shovel up just inside the backdoor. I went into the house and placed the two objects on my mantelpiece. One was the figure of an elf; blue elfin coat, red shirt and pointed hat, green lapels and shoes, pink face and yellow hair.

Emilthrii.

The other, small and squat, was a green gnome: dark with a solemn expression, sitting on the ground with his head in his hands.

As I had done each year I lit the green candle I set on the ashtray beside them.

There was a flicker of light from outside.

I stepped outside. The dark was illuminated with light. The dark houses now had the bright, what did they call them? Christmas lights strung around the roof, Christmas trees visible through front windows, merry music playing from car stereos. I stepped inside and glanced at the daily paper on my sofa, now thick with ads.

And when the season was done, I would bury the elf and the gnome in the yard again as the old ritual prescribed. And everyone else living these weeks would believe it had always been this way.

Thus the season dawned again.

But I wondered, at what price?

—end—

AUTHOR.S NOTE: Christmastime is also a time for tales of ghosts and the macabre. We hope you enjoyed this unsettling Christmas chiller. And we seriously wish you nothing more strange than visions of sugar plums and pleasant Christmas dreams! ——-jeff baker, December 24, 2021

Posted in Christmas, Fantasy, Fiction, Friday Flash Fics, Friday Flash Fictions, Horror, Short-Stories | Leave a comment

Rainbow Snippets: A Creepy Arrangement, from Jeff Baker, December 18, 2021.

Arrangement In Black and Gray

Every week we post six lines from a work of ours, a work-in-progress or published or a recommendation of someone else’s work with at least one LGBT character. Posted at Rainbow Snippets here:https://www.facebook.com/groups/963484217054974

Snippet this week is from another picture prompt story I wrote: “Arrangement In Black and Gray” (posted here https://authorjeffbaker.com/2018/01/28/looking-at-artwork-monday-flash-fiction-by-jeff-baker-january-29-2018/) It’s the classic story of the older guy, Ajuliano, on the make for the cute younger guy, Andy. The setting is an art museum where they are staring at a vintage 1920s painting that looks a lot like Ajuliano…

“Raymond DuPass,” Andy read, squinting at the card by the painting.

“Let me make a pass,” Ajuliano said, running his hand through Andy’s blond hair.

Andy grinned and kissed him. “Careful, we’re in public!”

“So let’s stop being in public,” Ajuliano said grinning back. “My place is right near here.”

Here’s juuuuust a little more:

“You’re what? Forty?”

“Closer to five-hundred and forty,” Ajuliano said grinning again. “I’m really a succubus.”

“Hey, it’s my bus and you can…” Andy began, as they both started laughing again.

Hope that whets your appetite! Someday, this and a bunch of my other flash fiction stories will be published in a book. (Not even in the planning stages yet!) Oh, and I love it that “Arrangement in Black and Gray” sneaks in a reference to Eldon, Murphy Brown’s artist friend!

Happy Holidays, Everyone!

———–jeff baker, December, 2021

Posted in Art & Artists, Fantasy, Fiction, Horror, LGBT, Rainbow Snippets, Short-Stories | 6 Comments

“Las Posadas,” A Friday Flash Fics Christmas Story by Jeff Baker (December 17, 2021)

Las Posadas

by Jeff Baker

It was a couple of weeks before Christmas around 1993, a week before finals and I was going to St. Nigel’s College in Kansas. To my mind about as far away from where Scott Garcia (that was me) grew up as you could get and still afford to go to school.

Sometimes Albuquerque seemed so far away.

I was studying biology, playing intramural sports and dating around that semester, my Junior year and somehow I got dragged into what was called the Hispanic Students Alliance. It was a way to meet girls and check out guys so I went through it.

One of the ideas we had floated around with the Campus Ministry Department was to do Las Posadas. I’d been in it a few times when I was a kid, but I wasn’t a kid anymore. Still, that evening we all got dressed up and made the procession, followed by a bunch of onlookers.

For the uninitiated; “Las Posadas” recreates the journey of Mary and Joseph to Bethlehem. Usually the competition to portray the Holy Couple can be pretty fierce and un-Christ-like but we had Zack and Marta, who were actually married leading the procession.

It was a warmish December evening but we still confined the walk to the inside, through the Administration Building and across the quad to the old dorm building that was used as overflow faculty offices. The way Las Posadas works is Joseph and Mary knock on the doors of houses (or offices) looking for a room and (by tradition) they are turned away. This goes on until we reach the planned destination and since the chapel was closed for renovation for most of that semester we were using the lobby of the old dorm where the offices were.

The big concession to student schedules and finals was we only did this one night instead of for nine. I needed to cram for a couple of finals anyway and I was sure even the Holy Family felt the same way.

It went on the way it was supposed to; we sang Christmas songs (the really old ones, not the one about the Grandmother getting flattened by a reindeer) knocking on doors and being turned away until we reached Professor Meyerbeer’s office on the third floor. He was old, at least I thought sixty was old when I was twenty, and he taught courses in Judaism which was not as incongruous as you might think at a Catholic school; he and Father Gareth had known each other for ages.

Zack and Marta knocked on Professor Meyerbeer’s office door, asked for a room and he sharply told them “No” and shut the door in their faces. We were heading down the hall singing “Silent Night” when we heard a door open and the Professor’s voice calling for us to stop.

“You folks may have a long way to travel,” the Professor said as he handed us all small, warm bags. Roasted peanuts. To this day I don’t know how he kept them so warm in the office.

“My Mother would never forgive me if I let travelers go on their way without a meal,” the Professor said. He smiled and waved. “Now, be on your way and let me know if you find the Messiah.”

We wandered downstairs, knocking on offices, singing and munching peanuts until we made our way to the lobby where Campus Ministry had set up a little Nativity scene by the fireplace that didn’t work anymore, along with some food and cans of soda. We sang more carols, had an impromptu Christmas service and ate.

I went back to the dorm, studied some and crashed.

I dreamed of vast, midnight skies of two-thousand years ago and of voices in ancient language singing, their songs rising to the heavens.

—end—

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This Christmas story was inspired by an article in my old college’s paper from a few years ago about students doing Las Posadas. I remember reading about it when I was a kid and yes, I have family in Albuquerque.

And to all the readers out there, on behalf of all the writers on this site I wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Posted in Christmas, Fiction, Friday Flash Fics, Friday Flash Fictions, LGBT, Short-Stories | Leave a comment

Mystery of the Vanished Ray Gun, December 2021 Flash Fiction Draw Challenge Story by Jeff Baker, December 12, 2021.

Photo by Heorhii Heorhiichuk on Pexels.com

The Mystery of the Vanished Ray Gun

by Jeff Baker

The December 2021 Flash Fiction Draw Challenge story’s prompts were a Mystery set in a highway toll both involving a ray gun. A perfect case for my 23rd Century Detective Captain of the Air Police, Captain Aimes. Here he’s faced with a ground-based mystery.

It had been a while since I’d officially been called down to Traffic Row. At least, not since I was promoted to the Homicide Division of the Air Police. I’d spent some of my early years on the Force “ground-based,” checking cargo and wheels, not bodies and weapons.

But here, we had a body and no weapon.

I’d finished scanning the area and entering the data into my saver. The flat, paved highway was long and had three traffic lanes. The area on either side of the pavement stretched out into green prairie which I had scanned, no trace of metal weapons or otherwise.

Captain Aimes, my boss, was staring into the toll both. The attendant was sprawled backward in his chair, a nasty burned hole in his chest. What I could see. As usual a fatal wound was a bloody mess. Tell-tale signs of a blast from an old-fashioned ray-gun. An antique that would be largely untraceable, which made it fashionable with modern criminals.

“We have a time established yet Lieutenant Ciervo?” Captain Aimes asked me.

“About 1300 hours,” I said. That’s when his saver went offline,” I said, fingering my saver in my front shirt pocket.

“You talk to the guy who found him?” Captain Aimes said.

“Yes,” I said. “He’s still in his truck.”

The long vehicle with the huge tank behind it was something a lot of people hadn’t seen, but I was familiar with ground-based vehicles from my earlier work. The driver had pulled up to the booth to put in his toll and saw the attendant dead in the booth. He’d called the Air Police. That had been about two hours after his saver stopped transmitting. The log transmitted from the truck showed that the driver hadn’t been near the toll booth anywhere near the time of the attendant’s death.

In other words, we had nothing.

“Not even a scratch on the windows of the booth. It hasn’t been tampered with,” Captain Aimes said. “But the hard money and credits chip are gone.”

There was a small metal box on the outside of the booth where someone could insert hard money or a credit chip. The money was gone. And that was the puzzling thing. Someone would have needed to break into the box and it wasn’t damaged. Even more puzzling, a scan of the receiver showed that the credits had been transferred a little more than two hours ago.

“That’s the way we know he had customers,” Captain Aimes said.

I nodded. I was remembering another case where someone had slipped a hard money coin into the slot of a deposit machine and the coin had exploded.

A pre-timed laserblaster. The size and shape of a hard money coin.

I sighed. Captain Aimes was staring at the dead attendant. He waved the technical crew over.

“Open the dome,” he said. “But be very careful. It’s possible there might still be an explosive in there.”

The technical crew quickly transmitted the opening codes and had the dome open. No explosion. No weapons. Captain Aimes picked up the remains of the attendant’s saver from the floor, looking like a small lump of twisted metal. He stared for a minute, then he quickly pulled out his saver and barked a series of orders into it.

“I know where the killer is, if not who,” he said. “And I know what happened here. This wasn’t a robbery gone wrong, this was a planned murder.”

The technical crew and I listened.

“It was supposed to look like an armed robbery but it was an inside job. The attendant’s accomplice arrived and the attendant turned over the hard money, several hundred thousand dollars, at least a pocketful of coins. And the credits, doubtless transferred with the help of the attendant. The attendant had at least one of the laserblaster discs on him, possibly in his jacket front pocket with his saver. He didn’t realize his accomplice wanted it all and sent a hypersonic which set off the laserblast in his pocket, destroying his saver and a chunk of his chest. And we had a laser wound and a vanished ray gun with no hole in the dome.”

“How will we find this killer or the credits?” I asked.

Captain Aimes smiled grimly. “His accomplice won’t want to attract attention. There have been no sensed reports of flights from this area, so he is ground-based. The highway runs East-West, so he won’t want to attract attention. At the speed limit, the next station to turn off the highway is just over three hours from here. He doubtless arrived here from the highway entry ramp two miles East. Turning around in the middle of a one-way highway would attract attention, and besides he may want to pull a genuine robbery at the toll both nearly three-hundred miles from here.”

“Greed,” he added, as if that explained everything.

Captain Aimes’ saver buzzed, and he answered, listened and nodded his head with a smile.

It had explained everything.

—end—

AUTHOR’S NOTE WITH A SPOILER: This is the second mystery I’ve written for Captain Aimes (whose first case appears HEREhttps://authorjeffbaker.com/2018/05/14/murder-above-the-clouds-may-flash-fiction-draw-story-by-jeff-baker/ ) This is the second of these draw challenge stories I think I’ve done where the prescribed object turns out not to exist! My sincere thanks to Jeff Ricker for hosting these draws over the past year! ——jeff baker, 12/12/21. 4:35 a.m.

Posted in Captain Aimes, Fiction, Monthly Flash Fiction Draw Challenge, Mystery, Science Fiction, Short-Stories | Leave a comment

Rainbow Snippets: “Christmas at Demeter’s Bar” by Jeff Baker. December 11, 2021.

Photo by Chan Walrus on Pexels.com

Every week we post six lines from a work of ours, a work-in-progress or published or a recommendation of someone else’s work. Posted at Rainbow Snippets here:https://www.facebook.com/groups/963484217054974

Here’s some more snippets from a Christmas story I wrote. This one from 2016 when I had just started posting a weekly flash fiction story on the blog https://authorjeffbaker.com/2016/12/11/christmas-story-christmas-at-demeters-bar/ and about a year after I started writing (and selling!!!) sci-fi tall tales set in a Gay bar inspired by Clarke’s “White Hart” and de Camp and Pratt’s “Gavagan’s Bar.” For the record, I wrote this one so I’d have some of the characters I wanted to use in print but I haven’t gone back to a lot of them. I actually re-posted this whole story on my blog about a week ago, so this may be overkill.


Demeter’s Bar closed up early the Wednesday before Christmas for their annual Christmas party. The lights were hanging over the side of the bar and around the big, round mirror behind it that Mrs. DeLeon said had come with the place, somehow making it look bigger.

Zack, the young-looking bartender with the shoulder-length red hair, grinned as he hoisted a crate onto the bar.

“Found these in the back, Mrs. Deleon. Under the box of napkins.”

“Good,” she said.

Here’s a little more:

The little Christmas tree had been set up at the corner of the small dance floor right next to the DJ’s booth.

“Hey, here’s mine,” Samuel said, handing her a small ornament. “You did this last year, didn’t you?”

“I do it every year, inviting all my friends and having them bring a decoration,” she said. “This is my family, so I have them come and decorate the party tree.”

The tree was festooned with a couple of plastic oranges, a little nutcracker, a model of the Golden Gate Bridge, a tiny spaceship whose lights twinkled and a stuffed bear in a Santa Claus suit.

Okay, one more snippet:

There was a sudden whistling whine which rose over the music. The twinkling lights of the little gray spaceship shone brightly as it rose from the tree, circled it once and then darted across the room. Zack ducked as it flew over him and crashed through the small upper window to the side of the bar.

“That fits in with some of the stories I’ve heard around here,” Scotty said.

“Yeah,” Zack said. “I’ll get that window.”

Merry Christmas!

Posted in Christmas, Demeter's Bar, Fiction, LGBT, Rainbow Snippets, Science Fiction, Short-Stories | 4 Comments

Tread Carefully Into Deep Waters…Angel Martinez does another fine reading of one of my stories! (Dec. 10, 2021)

Angel Martinez reads a story (or part of one!) every Friday on her blog. Today, she reads one of mine: “One Foot In Sea and One On Shore.” She’s done me the kindness of reading my stories before, but this one will give you the shivers! https://angelmartinezauthor.weebly.com/from-angels-cave/friday-reading-day-one-foot-in-sea-and-one-on-shore?fbclid=IwAR3kDY0ZQ81B_7fuwzY3HU5N9LlZpdLmdo85edgsA1NCf8yShiSAzQegRU0

My thanks to Angel again! Happy listening everyone!

(Turn up the lights for this one!)

——-jeff

Posted in Angel Martinez, Bryce Going, Fantasy, Fiction, Horror, LGBT, Short-Stories | Leave a comment

The One Hundred Thirty-Three Steps: Friday Flash Fics by Jeff Baker. (December 10, 2021.)

The One Hundred-Thirty-Three Steps

by Jeff Baker

“We gotta be out of our minds!” Karl said gawking up at the stairway.

“Yeah, but those are the stairs. THE stairs,” Johnny said.

“We gotta haul all that stuff up those stairs,” Karl said.

“Yeah, but it’s better than hauling a piano.” Johnny said.

Karl Melvin and Johnny Garcia were the sole owner-operators of Karl & Johnny’s We Move It. (“Specializing in hauling anything anywhere,” their print ad said.) They could barely afford the ad let alone rent on their office. The office was in one of L. A.’s ancient buildings across the street from a sprawling electronics complex.

“Let’s do this,” Johnny said.

Their van was parked down the street there in Silver Lake, they couldn’t park near the stairs so they had to carry the heavy boxes from the van, to the stairs, up the stairs and to a flatbed truck. Then they handed it off to a couple of guys who tossed it on the truck.

Johnny had asked why they didn’t drive the van up to the top of the hill, “that’s what happened in the movie” and he was told that the boss wanted it done this way.

“Here’s another nice mess you got us into,” Karl said with a grin as they passed each other on the famous stairs.

Johnny was a huge Laurel and Hardy fan. He had a poster of them on the office wall. He’d cried when he saw the biopic on the comedy team a few years before. He could even tell you how many steps there were on the staircase (“One hundred and thirty-three.”) There was no way he was going to turn down a job actually doing this. Even though they were moving slower as the morning dragged into afternoon. A pickup truck had driven up and parked by Johnny and Karl’s van. A pickup piled with more of the twenty-five pound bags of sand.

“Here’s the rest of it,” the driver had said, wearing the same t-shirt as the two guys with the flatbed truck. Then the driver had gone off with a guy in another pickup.

“Hey, why are we hauling this stuff up the Laurel and Hardy stairs?” Karl joked as they passed by each other.

When Karl came down the stairs after dropping off the latest bag he found Johnny leaning against the pickup truck.

“Why are we carrying those bags of sand up the stairs?” Johnny said with a grim expression as Karl hoisted another bag onto his shoulder.

“Give me a minute,” Johnny said with a grim expression. “I’ll be right with you.”

Karl glanced back as he started up the stairs. Johnny was talking on his phone.

It seemed like the pickup was getting more full instead of emptying out. It felt like hours later and the pickup was nearly empty when Karl and Johnny found a police car at the top of the hill with a couple of officers arresting the two men in the matching shirts. Once they identified themselves, the officers told Karl and Johnny they had gotten Johnny’s call.

“You guys were right,” the officer said. “They knew you couldn’t resist really working at the Laurel and Hardy stairs. While they were keeping you busy here, their accomplices broke into your office. Seems they found that they could use some equipment they had to eavesdrop on the electronics plant across the street from there. I heard something about a U. S. Embassy years ago that in the right spot to do a little electronic eavesdropping on a supposedly secure transmission. And that’s what happened here.”

Johnny and Kurt had to go down to the police station and fill out a report, and call someone to repair the door to their office. They were convinced the check they got for doing that hauling was going to bounce all over the place.

“Like it was printed by Wham-O,” Karl had said.

Still, they treated themselves to pizza and a beer when the day was done.

“Well,” Johnny said, raising his glass. “Here’s to another nice mess.”

—end—

AUTHOR’S NOTE: The stairs, featured in “The Music Box,” are still there in Silver Lake in Los Angeles. Ray Bradbury set a couple of stories around those stairs so how could I resist with the stair picture for this week’s prompt.

Oh, and the story of the U. S. Embassy being able to electronically eavesdrop on another embassy from its position is true. ——-jsb December 4, 2021.

Posted in Fiction, Friday Flash Fics, Mystery, Short-Stories | 1 Comment

Rainbow Snippets: A Christmas Ghost Story from Jeff Baker

Photo by Daisy Naranjo on Pexels.com

Every week we post six lines from a work of ours or a book recommendation with LGBT characters.

This week, in a Christmassy mood, a selection of snippets from my Christmas ghost story “Dusk at Marsden Towers.” A story heavily influenced by M. R. James. Our narrator is the closeted sixteen-year-old older brother whose family is spending Christmas Eve 1978 in the old Marsden Hotel in L. A. Due to a glitch, he and younger brother Todd have separate rooms. That’s when the strangeness starts.

I was awakened a few hours later by somebody crawling in bed with me. I recognized him immediately as Todd. I knew him and I knew his voice. We’d each had a key to the other’s rooms. He was whimpering and telling me to shut the drapes. He kept talking about a face.

He had been dozing when he woke up from an awful dream, a dream of an awful face with wide eyes and a mouth open in a big 0 just inches away from his. He had woken up, stared out the window, seen nothing but the city, gotten up, gone to the bathroom, drank some water and went back to bed. He lay down, stared out the window for a few minutes, he guessed, and started dozing again, when he opened his eyes and saw the face again, for an instant. He blinked and it was gone. It had been the same face and Todd realized it had been upside down. He thought he was having a nightmare.

Thanks for reading! Here’s the link to the Rainbow Snippets Facebook Page:https://www.facebook.com/groups/963484217054974

And here’s the blog post with my original story:https://authorjeffbaker.com/2017/12/28/a-christmas-ghost-story-by-jeff-baker-for-friday-flash-fics-december-29-2017/

Posted in Fiction, Rainbow Snippets | 2 Comments

“Christmas at Demeter’s Bar” a Holiday Reprint.

Photo by Chan Walrus on Pexels.com

Getting into the Christmas season, here’s a story I wrote and posted about five years ago. Enjoy and Happy Hollidays!

Christmas at Demeter’s Bar

by Jeff Baker

(From December 2016)


Demeter’s Bar closed up early the Wednesday before Christmas for their annual Christmas party. The lights were hanging over the side of the bar and around the big, round mirror behind it that Mrs. DeLeon said had come with the place, somehow making it look bigger.

Zack, the young-looking bartender with the shoulder-length red hair, grinned as he hoisted a crate onto the bar.

“Found these in the back, Mrs. Deleon. Under the box of napkins.”

“Good,” she said. Hang the plastic ones on top of the tree.”

“On it,” Zack said, rummaging through the box.

“Careful with those,” she said. “They’re plastic, but they were my Grandmother’s. I have her glass ones at home.”

The little Christmas tree had been set up at the corner of the small dance floor right next to the DJ’s booth.

“Hey, here’s mine,” Samuel said, handing her a small ornament. “You did this last year, didn’t you?”

“I do it every year, inviting all my friends and having them bring a decoration,” she said. “This is my family, so I have them come and decorate the party tree.”

The tree was festooned with a couple of plastic oranges, a little nutcracker, a model of the Golden Gate Bridge, a tiny spaceship whose lights twinkled and a stuffed bear in a Santa Claus suit.

“The bear is mine,” Regina said in a husky voice.

Likewise Mrs. De Leon knew Scotty, in his San Francisco sweatshirt, had brought the bridge.

“Hey, this eggnog’s wonderful, Mrs. DeLeon,” said the man in the suit and tie sitting in a booth with a sweet-faced middle-aged woman. Mr. Ross, who came to repair their ice machine usually every couple of weeks. He had become as much of a regular as some of their regulars. Vicki, who worked at the bar during the evenings, was laughing with Mr. Ross.

In the next booth, Miss Parker and Miss Anne were quietly holding hands as they glanced around, the lights reflecting off their gray hair. In another booth, three other women, considerably younger, were giggling like they were on a High School date. Brandi, Megan and Allison were about the same age as Day, Raven and Vicki who worked the evening shift and were trying to remember that Mrs. DeLeon had told them this was a party, they weren’t working and to help themselves to the eggnog.

Two other men were laughing with Zack as they wrapped a large garland of golden tinsel around the tree. One of them was Scotty’s husband and the other was Paco’s current boyfriend but Mrs. DeLeon wasn’t sure which was which. She glanced at the wall behind them where someone had pinned a Santa hat on a poster of a buff young man in a g-string. Christmas everywhere, she thought.

The line from A Christmas Carol kept going through her head: “Wonderful party, wonderful games, won-der-ful happiness!”

“You want some Christmas music?” That came from Stewart in the D.J. booth. “I got some Ralph Vaughn Williams.”

“That’ll be fine,” Mrs. DeLeon said with a smile. “Hey, did you put the little spaceship on the tree? It’s cute.”

“Nope, not mine.” Stewart said. “I brought the little train.”

“Nah, that little spaceship’s mine,” Paco said looking up from the pool table. “I found that in my backyard the other day, little lights and all. Guess it’s from a movie. Not sure which one.” The last word came out as a grunt as he aimed the cue ball towards a ball in the corner of the table and it went in with a clack.

“Oh, well,” she said, walking towards the bar. “Zack, where’s that box? I know I had the star for the top of the tree here somewhere.”

There was a sudden whistling whine which rose over the music. The twinkling lights of the little gray spaceship shone brightly as it rose from the tree, circled it once and then darted across the room. Zack ducked as it flew over him and crashed through the small upper window to the side of the bar.

Everybody stared for a moment.

“That fits in with some of the stories I’ve heard around here,” Scotty said.

“Yeah,” Zack said. “I’ll get that window.”

“Who wants more eggnog?”

—end—

Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

“No More Cakes and Ale” by Jeff Baker. Friday Flash Fics returns post-Thanksgiving. December 3, 2021.

No More Cakes and Ale

by Jeff Baker

“Pass the…hey what is that? Gravy or tea?”

The six of us around the table in the loft apartment laughed.

“Maybe it’s Au Jus…oh wait, tea.” Monroe said.

We were all from the College and either had nowhere to go or couldn’t make it home for Thanksgiving so Professor Clifford had invited us over to his loft for what he called a “Thanksgiving Brunch.” A couple of packages of sliced turkey and ham, canned soda, the clear pitcher of the suspicious brown liquid. I grinned and sipped my soda.

The loft occupied the top floor of an old brick office building downtown. The windows were the kind you see in office high-rises. There was a wood floor and a shag carpet. The bedroom was upstairs in a loft to one side of the loft.

“Who has the turkey?” Mick asked.

“Me,” Francisco said.

“Don’t hog it all,” Tommy said.

“Go easy on me, this is my first Thanksgiving in the U. S.!” Francisco said.

“Just pass the…”

“Okay! Okay!” Francisco said. “Hey, an Americanism!”

“What kind of dressing is that?” Marjorie asked.

“Edible.” Scott said.

“Mushrooms and, uh, bread and, uh, dressing stuff.” Professor Clifford said.

“It’s your dinner, don’t you know?” Mick asked.

“My loft, somebody else made the dressing.” Clifford said.

“I think Schuyler made the dressing,” Jorge said. “Hey, where is he, anyway?”

“Who brought the green beans?” Liz asked.

“I got them from the store.” Professor Clifford said.

“Give ‘em here, I’m vegetarian.” Liz said.

“Wrong day of the year for that!” Scott laughed.

“Have the dressing,” Francisco said. “I just helped myself. It looks like just vegetables and bread.”

“Turkey should be okay too,” Scott said. “I brought it. It’s synthetic tofu.”

“BLEAAAH!” Jorge said.

“I got the sliced turkey at the store,” Professor Clifford sighed.

“Is he like this in class?” Marjorie asked.

“Not this semester, he’s a junior!” Mick said.

Everybody laughed.

“Are those cranberries?” Francisco asked.

“Yup!” Mick said. “My Mom loves cranberries. She’s probably eating them right now.”

“Yeah.” Marjorie said.

There was a moment of nostalgic silence.

“Hey, what’s that?” Scott asked. “That rumbling noise?”

Liz craned her neck. “I think Schuyler’s asleep on the couch.”

“He’s up late. Working and studying.” Mick said.

“Let him sleep,” Professor Clifford said. “I’ll make him a plate to heat up later.”

“Hey, Happy Thanksgiving!”

“Yeah! Happy Thanksgiving!”

“You too!”

“Yes! You too!”

—end—

A little vignette for a late Thanksgiving celebration or maybe a leftover! Didn’t turn out the way I thought it would. Title from Shakespeare’s “Twelfth Night.”——jsb.

Posted in Fiction, Friday Flash Fics, Friday Flash Fictions, Short-Stories, Thanksgiving | 2 Comments