Hard Times

“Quick. Under the bed. It’s him. He’s here. Not a sound.”

“Neon. Greetings.”

“Siren! Wasn’t expecting you back so soon”.

“S’that a problem? You look nervous.”

“Nah. Just about to have breakfast. Egg and bacon. Join me.”

Siren looked suspicious. It wasn’t everyday Neon offered refreshments. Very few people did. Days of austerity! Hah! That doesn’t get near to covering it. Not since the sixty month sun-free winter and the end to the abundance and self-indulgence that we all knew and loved.

Anyway, egg and bacon! Very twenty first century! Ain’t no such things as eggs nowadays. Not for the likes of us.  Ain’t no such thing as bacon. Probably a strip of old saddle leather marinated in distilled urine. No pigs to be found anywhere. Except those that can fly. Nor sheep nor cows. Christ, even the zoos and circuses lost their animals way back when and now in the ‘burbs all the pets have been eaten. Including the canaries. No first class protein to be found anywhere.

Somewhere upstairs, under a bed, a dog barked.

Siren looked over his shoulder, bared his teeth. “I’ll have a slice of that,” he said.

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7 Responses to Hard Times

  1. Patrick says:

    Thanks Elaine. I enjoyed playing with this.

  2. Elaine McKay says:

    I loved the ending. Nicely done.

  3. kiwirebecca says:

    I love the world you’ve developed, it’s hilarious! So creative. I cracked up when I read ‘Probably a strip of old saddle leather marinated in distilled urine.’

  4. Pretty smooth dialog. Like that “except the one that can fly” line. Palpable menace in Siren last dialog too. Nicely done.

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