Flash Fiction Challenge – Week One Submissions

2014 Flash Fiction Challenge (FFC)! flash-fiction-badge

The FFC week one submissions are in! Thanks to The Excessive Gardener for the terrific submission! 

Week One
Prompt: A vagrant approaches a well-dressed man who leaves a trendy coffee shop with a five-dollar latte and a fat-free scone.

The Excessive Gardener

Oh, no. Why me? There are plenty of other customers coming out the door.  Why pick on me?  He wants my latte and so do I.   I’ll give him the scone.

“Hey, Mister.”

“Here, take the scone.”

“What? Why?”

“You’re not getting my latte.  I really need it this morning.  Just take the scone.”

“I don’t want your frigging scone.  I need your help.”

“I’m trying to help you.  Take the scone.”

“Look down at my right hand.  I said look down at my right hand.”

“A badge?  You’re a cop?”

“Not so loud, okay?  I need you to do something for me.”

“Don’t tell me you’re undercover.”

“Listen, Suit.  Just be frigging quiet and do as I say.”

“Wait a minute.  Do not get me involved.  I shouldn’t have to help some undercover cop do his job. What do I pay taxes for? So I …”

“Just shut up and do as I say.  Go back inside.  Order a double shot macchiato. While you’re waiting look for a guy with a black suit and blue tie.  Come back out with the macchiato… “


“Don’t interrupt…”

“Tell me everything you remember about the guy.  Is he alone or with someone; what did he order, everything you can remember. Got it?”

” Why should I?”

“Because if you don’t I’ll arrest you and your Suit for obstructing a police operation.”

“You can’t do that.”

“Watch me.”

“Fine. “

“Don’t look back at me at any time and don’t look obvious.   Whatever you do, don’t look him in the eyes.  Don’t let on that you’re watching him.”

“You know, I’m not a moron.”

” You’re not a moron.  Now get in there.”

15 minutes later. . .

“It’s about time, Suit.  Did  you see him?”

“I think I so.   Medium height, brown hair and ….”

“Yeah, yeah.  Hand me the macchiato so it looks like the up and up.”

“There was more than one guy in there with a blue tie.  But, I think I picked out the right one.”

“Was he alone?”

“Yes. “

“What else?”  The Cop/vagrant takes a sip out of the cup.

“Hey, this is no macchiato.  It’s plain coffee.”

The Suit smiles,  ” I told you I’m no moron.”

“What are you frigging talking about?”

“I’m an attorney.  You’re not a cop.  That’s not even a realistic looking badge, buddy.”

“Okay, okay.  You got me.  What’s the big crime here?”

“Impersonating a police officer.”

“Aw, come on.”

” Why did you go through with it then?    Go back into the shop and wait in line …?”

“Why?   ‘Sometimes you’re the bug and sometimes you’re the windshield’.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Mr. Bug?  Meet Mr. Windshield.”


A police officer comes up behind the vagrant and puts his hand on his shoulder.

“Nice try, Felix.”

The attorney asks the vagrant,  ” is this the guy you were looking for?  He’s wearing a blue tie.”

Post your flash fiction or a link to your submission in the comments section of this post by January 8th.

I was pretty excited to get started! Here’s my first submission!

Sometimes a Muffin Isn’t Just a Muffin
Thain in Vain

Josh rushed into the coffee shop hoping to get in and out quickly so he could make the 8:45 train. He’d been late twice this week and couldn’t stomach another superior look from Julie. She’s been gunning for that promotion and practically rolls around in his fuck-ups.

Of course there was a stupid line-up. He sighed and scrolled through Facebook on his phone. He looked up as some ancient old lady ordered like a million muffins and scones. How many of her friends could possibly still be alive, he thought.

When it was his turn, he ordered his usual, a grande non-fat vanilla latte and a fat-free scone, but was informed there were no scones.

“What?” He snapped at the sullen cashier who had those large, dangly holes in her ears. “Well, what do you have, then?”

“Well, sir, as you can see in the glass display case, we have practically everything under the sun. May I recommend the Blueberry Crumble Blast muffin? It’s a blast,” said the cashier with the pleasant sarcasm of a disgruntled restaurant worker.

Josh resisted the urge to snap at her. “Sure, I’ll take the muffin.”

He grabbed his order and made a beeline for the door. If he hurried he could make it to the office by 9:10, just in time for the marketing meeting. He imagined the satisfied look on Julie’s smug face if he was late. Not going to happen today, Julie old girl, he was thinking just as a round, ruddy face appeared in front of his, stopping him in his tracks.

“Did you order the Blueberry Crumble Blast muffin?” The large face bellowed.

Josh took a step back to get out of the wake of the foul breath escaping from the gaping hole this man called a mouth. “Pardon?”

The man bellowed louder asking the same question.

A little stunned, Josh answered the man. “Ya, why?” Josh got a good look at the man. He was dressed in what could only be described as layered rags. His beard and hair were the colour of sun-faded cement. Both were matted, well on the way to becoming dreadlocks. Add a staff and this guy could be Gandalf, thought Josh.

“They stole my recipe,” he raged at Josh.  “The crumble was my idea. I told them about it and they stole it. I want it back.”

“Well, what do you want me to do about it?” Josh began backing away from the man.

“Give me back my recipe,” he screamed and lunged at Josh. Josh let out a loud cry, dropped his coffee and the bag containing the offending muffin and took off down the street. The old bum grabbed the bag and shoved a good portion of the muffin into his mouth.

The coffee shop cashier watched the whole scene with a satisfied smile pasted on her face. That’ll teach you to be rude to me, she thought and turned to the next customer in line. “Hi, how may I help you?”

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