Last week, I started my new flash fiction, tentatively called Stan and Ollie. And there was someone knocking at the door. Let's find out who... Then don't forget to visit the other Wednesday Briefers, whose links follow my tale. Enjoy!
Stan and Ollie #2
“Then that someone can wait until after you’ve had your breakfast,” I stubbornly maintain, standing my ground with a grimace, a stiff spine, and a no-nonsense look in my eye…
… which is completely wasted because he’s already moved out of the kitchen and he’s headed toward the front door. For all the good it did—and did I really think it would do any—I might just as well have saved my breath. He’s one damn stubborn alien, I’m here to tell you.
And damned if I don’t let him get away with it on a regular basis.
But I’m also not about to let him put himself in harm’s way, stubborn or not, so I put my riled-up ass in gear and I’m right behind him, prepared to defend and protect him with every last breath in my body. That’s what I used to do, back in the day. I was a cop, and a damn good one. Now I’m a short order cook who has an outer space alien for a lover, and then there’s this other shit…
I have a sneaking suspicion who or what’s on the other side of that door—well, at least a general idea— and if I’m right, this is only the beginning of something potentially unpleasant and possibly dangerous.
Right. What else is new?
The pounding has begun again. Impatient son of a bitch. I glare through the glass, feeling flames shoot from my eyes—metaphorically speaking, that is. But I see nothing there. Which is pretty much what I expected to see.
“You forgot your glasses.” As usual is the unspoken rest of that sentence as he reaches into his pocket and hands them to me. But his touch alone is enough to reveal what my unaided eyes cannot see. It’s just a flash, as Ollie moves to open the door, and our connection is broken. But it is enough to show me the figure standing there for a split second.
I unfold the glasses and push them onto my face. The lenses are small, smoke-colored ovals set in gold wire frames. They don’t look like anything special, but they are. Now I can see her more clearly. And a her it undoubtedly is. A young woman, from the looks of her, in a long, white, rather the worse for wear, bedraggled wedding gown.
I’d like to say now that’s something you don’t see every day but, unfortunately with us, that just isn’t true. Maybe not this particular make and model, but this is nothing out of the ordinary for us.
Ollie has the door open and he’s reaching for her already. No matter how many times I tell him to be cautious, he’s one crazy impulsive act-without-thinking alien. With the biggest heart in the world.
“Won’t you come in?” he invites her. She looks at me suspiciously, then gives him an appraising glance before she accepts his invitation, staying close to his side, as far from me as she can get. Then he turns those big bright beautiful deep blue alien eyes on me and even as I shake my head, he’s asking, “Will you call Gwin?”
“You’re being premature.” I grit my teeth and try not to sound as pissed off as I feel. Why do I even bother? I know if he’s asking me to call my sister, then it’s something serious.
“Fine,” I grumble, gathering the shreds of my wounded dignity and donning it like a mantle. “But until she and Lorenzo get here, the Pampered Princess can damn well wait tables.” I glare at the cat, who’s deigning not to notice me, but I can tell by the way her tail twitches back and forth as she sits at Ollie’s feet that she’s heard every word I said.
“Thank you, Stan.” He presses his lips to mine and for that brief moment I see stars… then he pulls away, and he’s addressing Xylina. “Thank you too, milady.” The cat makes no immediate response, as if it is beneath her.
I anticipate his next question, so before he can ask it, I respond. “Yes, take her back into the office. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Perhaps he’ll get more out of her without me being around anyway.
Ollie escorts the still silent young woman across the restaurant to our office, closing the door behind them. Which leaves me with Miss Difficult. I’m not in the mood for her attitude, so she better not… By the time I turn back to her, she’s made the change. Gone is the fluffy white and ginger furball. In her stead is a tall and disdainful diva in waitress uniform. At least she’s dressed to work. That has to be a good sign.
“You will pay for this.” She shoots me one of her venomous looks. The ones that don’t scare me. Although truth be told, she’s no one to fuck with. I’ve seen her in action. Don’t let the disguise fool you. She’s not a woman, and she’s not even a true cat in any sense of the word most people would be familiar with. She’s… something else. But I also know that she and Ollie have this bond, and she does whatever he wants, and if she would ever dare to harm me… well, just know that nothing would save her from his wrath. Though a lot of good it would do me if she killed me.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I mutter. “Keep on telling yourself that. Give me about five minutes and open up.”
“About five minutes? Can you be a little more precise? You earthlings are so vague.”
“And you bitches are so annoying,” I retort. “Fine, make it five minutes exactly. Happy?”
“Happy is such a relative term when dealing with—”
“I know, I know, don’t get your tail in a twist, yer majesty.” I stalk back into the kitchen and pick up one of my sharpest knives… and begin to chop.
to be continued
Now, be sure to visit the rest of the Wednesday briefers!
Lily Sawyer m/m
Michael Mandrake m/m
MA Church m/m
Until next time, take care!