Two Flash Fictions
By Scott Garson.
What’s on TV? We could watch murder shows. Tell me how it was done. That way I can know. I’ve been to Los Angeles, actually. About ten years ago. We went on the train. I remember nothing much of interest. I bought a nice shirt. What I’d say: I agree with those people, if they’re still around, who feel that the wash of a show of this kind doesn’t leave you, like, perfectly clean. Hit the arrow, I’d say. More of this: fleet water and flame. And what could be better, more worth your life’s hour, than Lawrence Welk, all these years dead? I have a young daughter. She watched the old band leader once. I don’t really think she secretes like we do in the flash of the newer programs. But she was aware. Two couples, the women stiffly gauzed, did nothing but smile and sing. Here they were, their four faces, unbroken upon our screen, large and porous and clenched. Right there, their four mouths. They were crazy, my daughter could see. They’d crossed to the other side.
Self Portrait as a Man of Importance
My kitchen is probably clean in the morning. Does somebody make my coffee? No, I’m alone. I like to feel my time. As others know to do, I value the chance to be with me. What next? The paper. Maybe the New York Times. A switch of my wrist and the quarter-folded pages snap and fill. This learned from my father. A simpler man than I. Alive in a simpler time. He carried his own lunch. And he carried me, on his shoulders, hoping, but certainly not knowing for sure, that I would have a chance of becoming the man that I have become.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Scott Garson edits Wigleaf, an online journal of very short fiction. He’s the author of American Gymnopédies (forthcoming from WWP).
First published in 3:AM Magazine: Tuesday, February 23rd, 2010.