More Small Fiction

This piece was published by The Molotov Cocktail a while back. I thought it was a cute piece and I’m consolidating all my little pieces to this blog so I’m putting it up. Here is the link to The Molotov Cocktail you should submit something under 500 words. : http://themolotovcocktail.com

It’s a fun excercise

 

Save Those Fucking Turtles

We decided to stop drinking and spend Sunday at the zoo. We had decided not to do coke the night before as well. I told Chug and Primo there was no way we were going to crash Rachel’s “Save the Animals” mixer. Sure, we did shit like that in high school, but that was over ten years ago.

When we got there I decided not to embarrass Rachel even though I will admit to feeling bitter about our break up. If the wine wasn’t free I would have stopped drinking as we sat and listened to her talk about the Green Sea Turtles. They needed our help fighting against extinction. She fucking loved those turtles. More than she loved me, and we lived together for over a year until I moved in with Chug and Primo last week.

All these suit types nodded sympathetically as she talked about those turtles with their overbites—fucking overbites—and plastron, whatever. She rambled on about how they returned to the sea 150 million years ago. They’ve been around since the dinosaurs, blah blah blah. They’re cold blooded. Perfect, common ground for her and her fucking turtles. Then she said if they went extinct the world would feel a loss. Their end would be a tragedy.

“Hypocrite!”

I didn’t know I yelled it until everyone turned to see me on my feet swaying in the back of the room, red wine splashing out the sides of the glass.

“Conny, is that you?” She squinted from the stage.

“Conrad. My name is Conrad, Rach-el. I would think your big scientist brain would have figured I hate being called ‘Conny.’ I told you that when you broke off our engagement.”

I saw her blush but my cheeks burned. I didn’t know what else to do so I finished my drink.

Thank god for Chug. He stood up and yelled, “Yeah, if you really want to save the turtles sell them to McDonalds. There ain’t no fucking endangered animals on the supervalue menu.”

Security ushered us out.

We decided anymore drinking that night was a bad idea and we certainly should not do any mushrooms. As we sat at the bar, Chug and Primo talked about how weird it was that the turtles were green only because of the algae they ate. Primo vowed to only eat carrots from that day on to see if he would turn orange. I wrote up recipes for Turtle Chalupas and told the guys that we would by no means break into the zoo that night to cook those fucking turtles, even though it would be so easy. I don’t know why, but I could not let those little fuckers go extinct no matter how much I hated them.

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