Flash in the Pan
Christine Brand
Flash in the Pan
Flashes of Light - Book 2
A small collection of flash fiction
By Christine Brand
Copyright 2014 Christine Brand
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Also available: Book 1 Gone in a Flash
Flash Gordon
So many ties, so little time.
Flash Comic
Made to make you laugh.
Flash Mob
A grey man dressed in black. The longest ever flash fiction story, at 999 words this is twice as long as usual, but not long enough to be allowed out on its own!
Flash Paper
Always look everywhere before you start.
Flash Drive
You snooze, you lose.
Flash Gordon
Gordon hates interviews.
What to wear is his first problem, definitely a suit and tie, but which tie. This morning he had laid them all out on the bed, 36 of them! Gordon had sorted them into groups, but that didn't really solve the problem!
Novelty, including one that plays Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, and two with pictures of naked women on. Funereal, three black ones of varying expense and two very plain ones.
Plain, red, blue, another shade of blue, bilious green, mustard yellow and baby pink.
Next, stripes, his old school tie, regimental tie, and a gaudy Christmas present from his brother in law.
Cartoon characters, he picked up Fred Flintstone and Spiderman and added them to the novelty pile.
Floral, three quite nice inconspicuous patterns and Van Gogh's Sunflowers.
Geometric shapes, seven different designs, but one in three different colours, his brother in law again.
Gordon checked which shirts were clean and didn't need ironing. Pale blue looked best, so he chose a geometric pattern with purple and blue shapes.
Finally dressed and ready to leave, Gordon ran back and stuffed the plain blue in his briefcase, just in case. Locking the front door he checked his watch, plenty of time.
Arriving at the office building Gordon approached the security desk.
"Which room for the Wainwright Company interviews, please?"
The security guard smiled, "meeting room three, down the corridor on the left, just before the toilets."
"Thank you."
Gordon checked his watch, still an hour to go! He walked over to the coffee shop and ordered a drink. Sitting down, Gordon removed his tie, swapping it with the plain one. He practiced some calming techniques his sister had recommended, but still felt a hollowness in his gut. Taking some notes from his briefcase, he skimmed through them. Job specification, functional skills, qualifications. Why do you think you are the best candidate for this position? What qualities can you bring to the company? What makes you stand out from other applicants?
Realising the time had come; Gordon took a deep breath and stood up. Checking in the mirror behind the counter, he assured himself he was ready for anything.
Walking down the corridor he made sure his palms we're not sticky and grasped the door handle. The room was empty. Gordon sat down at the table; he removed some papers and placed his briefcase against the table leg. As he straightened up the door opened.
"Mr Matthews? Come in, come in," he held out his hand, "I'm Gordon Wainwright, please have a seat."
"So, why do you think you are the best candidate for this position?"
~#~
Flash Comic
I sit in the cafe with a cup of tea. Derek comes in and waves on his way to the counter.
"Green eggs and ham, with a cup of Rosy Lee."
Derek has many ways of ordering. He often thinks up completely new ones, especially if, like today, there is a new Saturday girl.
She taps her biro against her teeth and squints at the menu. "Gammon, egg and chips, and a cup of builders?" she grins up at him.
"Bingo!" he gives her a thumbs up and heads over to my table.
Marcia passes the food order through to the kitchen and stirs the tea pot. "You sweet enough already, Mr Magoo?" she calls over, pouring out a mug of tea.
Derek chuckles, "Julie Andrews for me, my little cupcake!"
Marcia brings the steaming drink over with a knife and fork wrapped tightly in a blue serviette.
Suddenly the radio is turned up in the kitchen and we're treated to a rendition of 'I am the One and Only'.
"One and only what?" Derek shouts back.
The radio is turned down and Ambrose pokes his head through the hatch. "I am the one and only person frying your eggs!"
He waves a fish slice in the air and disappears back into the kitchen.
Shortly the food is ready and Marcia brings it over. She stops to wipe the table next to ours.
"Anything else I can get you," she asks.
"The cocoa coloured ketchup is running dismally low."
"Coming right up!" Marcia takes the nearly empty brown sauce bottle and replaces it with a full one.
Derek squirts the sauce liberally over his gammon and spearing a chip with his fork, dips it into a perfectly fried soft yolk.
"You up for a pub quiz next Friday?" Derek enquires between mouthfuls.
"With you on the team? Why not?"
"Well, I'm not actually on the team anymore, that's why we need you."
"What?" I splutter into my tea, "Why ever not?"
"I had an argument with the guy who wrote the questions. He didn't have his facts right, and I told him so."
"But that's not a reason to ban you, you've been patronising that establishment for longer than that stupid kid of a barman has been old enough to drink! He gets all his questions from Wikipedia anyway. With a record like yours for captaining the pub in the league quizzes he should be grateful for your input! You could do a better job than him any day!" I bang my fork down on the table and the salt shaker falls and rolls off the table with a crash. Marcia jumps like a scared rabbit and Ambrose rushes out to see what is happening.
Derek grins, "I'm glad we're on the same side here, the pub is grateful. That stupid kid walked out on them. I'm the new Quizmaster!"
