Sunday, January 8, 2012

Flash Fiction - Rapture

Good evening,

 I'm going to make an effort to update on Sundays now as I'm currently working 9-5 and do volunteering on Monday nights... as well, I've started taking French classes on Tuesdays and on Wednesdays I'm part of a writing circle with a bunch of my associates.

 This will not stop the Roberttrain, however. FOR EXAMPLE

***

            His roommate was laughing when he got in. That was always a bad sign. The last time Blaine was laughing, it was because he found a video of a man defecating in a supermarket. It bothered Isaac to share an apartment with him. Still, morbid curiosity made him ask: “What are you so happy about?”
            Blaine smiled like the devil, “Just thinking that I’d like a Vegas wedding.”
            “You’d like a what?”
            “I’m going to take my girlfriend down to Vegas. We’re going to have an R. Kelly impersonator as the priest.”
            “Blaine, what –”
“He’ll woo us with his soulful singing and then turn around and pee on a fourteen-year-old girl. It’ll be magical.”
Isaac winced. “That’s awful. You’re going to hell for that, Blaine.”
His roommate threw his head back and laughed dramatically, “We’re already there, brother! Haven’t you heard?”
One day he would stop asking questions. It wasn’t that day just yet, “Heard what?”
            “There’s reports coming in, dude!” the mad one said, pointing to his laptop, “Three people got ascended!”
            “What?”
            “No, seriously, three folks got bathed in light and were lifted into the heavens and shit.”
            “You’re lying.”
            “Would I lie?”
            “Yes.”
            “Check the news, then. I’m telling you it’s there.”
            Sceptically, Isaac put himself on the couch next to his friend and seized the remote. With a press of a button, the T.V. came on. A newscaster looking worse for wear rubbed his thumbs against a rosary chain and muttered. Turning up the volume, Isaac leaned in.
The words shocked him. He couldn’t believe them. He jumped from channel to channel, desperate for answers. BBC, CNN, CBC, Fox News, and NBC – they all reported the same thing. The same video footage of a pillar of light descending on a crowd of people and then dissipating seconds later ran and cut back to the desk. Anchors were in disbelief, struggling with their notes and Teleprompters; Bill O’Reilly was crying.
            Isaac sat back, his mouth slacked open. “When was this?”
            Blaine checked his laptop, “About fifteen minutes ago.”
            “Who?!” Isaac cried, lunging for his friend and seizing his collar, “Who got taken?!”
            “Um,” Blaine grunted, scrolling down, “A Lesbian art teacher from Russia, a Shaolin monk, and Ricky Gervais all got hit by light at exactly the same time before -”
            “WHAT?!
            “That’s what it says!”
            Isaac flew from his friend and tossed his hands in the air, “This is ridiculous! I’ve been a Baptist my whole freaking life! My parents and grand-parents spent years preparing me for this day, and those clods get taken instead of me?!”
            “Hey, you never know, maybe God’s standards changed,” reasoned Blaine, readjusting his shirt.
            “God doesn’t change His standards!” raged Isaac, “That’s the whole idea! He’s supposed to have set rules that you’re not supposed to break and you’re supposed to keep to those rules!”
            “Well, maybe he decided to stop being such a tight-ass.”
            “Do not call God a tight-ass!
            Blaine thumped his laptop on the desk and got up, “What, so I’m supposed to ignore all those parts in the Bible that told people not to eat shrimp? Or how about all those parts that promoted slavery?”
            Isaac lifted a finger, opened his mouth and stopped. He rose headed for the door, “I don’t have to hear this.”
            “Yeah, I guess. Why don’t you head to church and find some answers there, fanboy?”
            Angrily, he grabbed his coat, “I think I will. What are you gonna do?”
            “Download all the porn I want,” he cackled, cracking his knuckles, “Take your time comin’ home and don’t mind the smell.”

***

 Yes I started off my Sunday updates with a fairly sacrilegious story. Go big or go home, I suppose.

See you next time,

-RWI

EDIT: May 23, 2012. One minor edit.

No comments:

Post a Comment