Furious Fiction October 2021 - Longlisted
Your story’s setting: a COURT of some kind.
Your story must include a character who measures something.
Your story must include the words BALLOON, ROCK, UMBRELLA.
Cleaner @ the food court:
If it stinks, I’ve seen it. Honey chicken floatin’ in a spearmint thick shake. 47 napkins soaked in laksa. But nothin’ stinks more than a bad first date. And this one reeked worse than a week-old wasabi pancake. I can’t help staring when the bloke stands up.
***
Hannah @ Subway:
So, this tall guy comes up, kinda rigid and crabby. Reminded me of Uncle George, how he always hugs me for too long at Easter. So, Mr Rigid wants a foot-long sub with extra rocket. No worries, I say. I pluck a fresh bun from the oven and, you’re never gonna believe this—he asks to look at the roll. No worries, I say (again) and pass it over. Turns out he’s got one of those measuring tape thingys on his keyring and he MEASURES it. You know, to check it’s actually a foot long. He’s ranting about how all these corporations shave 50g off here, 20cm off there, but still charge the same. Talk about painful. I copped the rant then slipped about 17 jalapenos into his sub. Made me feel heaps better.
***
Gulianno @ FastaPasta
I mind my own business. That’s what I do. And that’s what I was doing, wiping down the bain-marie when this lofty gentleman stops, waves a foot-long at my sign and tells me there’s TWO c’s in gnocchi. I could not believe it. He stopped to tell me that. To make it bloody worse, that monotone Umbrella song by Rihanna began to crawl through the speakers. It was the icing on my dirt cake.
***
Cleaner @ the food court:
I rumbled my trolley past to get a closer look at the strange union. The bloke’s face was a deflated balloon, his crankiness weighin’ down every feature. He was eatin’ a sub with a knife and fork. I swear he was. The poor sheila sittin’ opposite him tapped away on her phone. Escape message, no doubt.
***
The Woman @ the table:
The cleaner stares at me without blinking as he trundles past. I finish texting the cat sitter and give my attention back to the hot potato of a man in front of me. 20 years of marriage today. Still as handsome as the day we met. And more intelligent. Phil knew exactly where to go to mark our special occasion. ‘I’ll take you around the world,’ he said. And here we are. Chinese cuisine to my left. The tastes of Italy to my right. The thrill of abundant choice and no need to book a table. The fluoro lighting brings out the wisdom lines in his face as he finishes his American-franchised delicacy. We straighten each other’s napkins at the same time and my heart explodes. I lick my teeth and put my retainer back in. Time to go home and show this giraffe of a man what he means to me.
***
The Man’s bowels:
Emergency transmission. Unexpected heat load. Locate sanitised evacuation centre now.
