So, I finally got around to posting my second #flashfiction. It only took me 6 months! I have considered doing a short series of stories about Betty and Brian, but I dislike Brian so much that I’m not sure I could do it. I hope you enjoy the story.

God, I looked like a god that day. Adonis himself would have been proud. I stepped off the plane and followed the mile long, snaking walk to the baggage carousel. I watched my fellow passengers as they walked, stumbled ahead and around me, and wondered how anyone could take so little pride in their appearance. Slovenly was the only word that came to mind. They’d travelled an eleven hour flight, over-night, but all it took was a little self-respect and any one of them could have looked as good as I did. Well, almost. I shone that day, my soul a beacon.

I stood just slightly over the white line as the carousel clunked into life. I was surrounded by the eyes of hungry, eager faces, lips slightly parted, watching with a passionate fear as each bag dropped, twirled and waltzed into vision. Their bodies were poised to jump and grab, just in case the luggage snatcher had his eyes on their possessions this day. And me? I watched with a cavalier indifference, hands in pockets, head slightly turned. Those idiots were far more amusing than a revolving circle of multi-coloured baggage, and if Betty had to wait a little longer because I’d missed my bag the first time around, her anticipation would be all the greater for it.

It was to be our first meeting. I’d only ever seen her photograph before. She was nothing to scream home about but pretty enough, with a cute pair of tits. It hadn’t taken me long to learn what it was she wanted. Online relationships are a breeze once you’ve learnt how to play, and I’d certainly had the practice. I can’t recall how long I’d been online, how many women I’d sweet talked into that one enduring night of passion, but I was beginning to get bored when I met Betty. I noticed she was different almost immediately. She actually wanted to talk, and talk; on and on and on she’d go, hour after hour, just blabbering on. The letters on her keyboard must have worn to dirty grey. The girl just never shut up. But she was interesting, in a droll, demanding kind of way. And even though she drove me crazy, I found myself logging on just to see if she was there, and she just kept on coming back.

brian:      we are having a riveting conversation today, aren’t we?
betty:      you are just frustrating
brian:      laughs. i was not online when you sent those 2 e-mails
betty:      i sent 3 emails

We hadn’t ever talked on the phone. I tried to initiate phone sex on a couple of occasions, but she wasn’t interested. It seemed strange to think I’d never even heard her voice, and I prayed she wasn’t a high-pitched shrieker. If she talked as much as she typed, I envisioned my wrists being slit before the day was over. But, if I’m honest, she made me laugh. Usually, I just charmed them, used them, then threw them away. But Betty was actually quite entertaining. It wasn’t like I was in love with her or anything, but she killed the boredom on a number of days.

brian:      sorry, had to log off. where were we?
betty:      you said i sent you 2 emails and i said no, i sent you 3
brian:      3? when did you send a third?
betty:      what emails did you get?
brian:      you sent one asking me to get online
brian:      and one saying that you were disappearing
betty:      you are missing an email
brian:      ok. let me run through all the e-mails i have from you
brian:      8-11, first e-mail on pasta musings
brian:      8-20, a reply to my reply
brian:      8-23, re: you left me to die
betty:      huh?
brian:      that was the subject line
brian:      9-04, soft, pear shaped meditations
brian:      9-05, re: soft, pear shaped meditations
brian:      9-12, quirkless
brian:      9-13, knock knock
brian:      9-13, are you there?
brian:      the end
betty:      and your point is?
brian:      my point was to find out if i was missing an e-mail
betty:      okay. you missed 9-13, blow me

When I finally picked her out of the crowd, she was smiling; a bit skinny, yellow hair. She wasn’t exactly a golden child. But I wandered in her direction, with a fixed grin on my face, and prepared myself for the gush of love I was about to be overwhelmed by. She jumped at me, her arms flung wide encircling my neck and, as she pulled me towards her, she made a small, throaty rasping sound. I caught a glimpse of myself in the polished perspex gate behind her and my eyes were wide, almost reeling. I patted her head from behind with one hand and straightened my, now tousled, hair with the other. I was suddenly finding it hard to breathe.

She squeezed me tightly and, after what felt like an extended period of overtly intimate time, I began to feel slightly suffocated. I turned my gaze away from the gate and, as I winked goodbye to my reflection, I reached around and pulled her arms from my neck, pushing her slowly from me.

“The hair, Darling,” I said.

“Darling,” she whispered, and flung herself at me again. “You really should have washed it.”

27 August 2010
(c) ej.james. All Rights Reserved