Random Flash-Fiction---crap

"What's with that girl over there?" Britney whispered as she combed her fingers through her bottle-blond hair.


"Which one?" asked Sarah as she fiddled with a charm-bracelet on her left wrist.


"That one, there. In the corner. Have you ever seen her talk to anybody?"


"Psh--no," Sarah smirked. "She never raises her hand or anything."


"Look at what she's wearing," Britney laughed. "That hoodie has stains on it!"


"Yeah," Sarah chuckled, but still maintained a whisper. "And who wears a parka like that anymore? What is she doing, climbing Mt. Everest?"


"I know," Britney was having a field day. "It's like, hello, make up your MIND already! Hoodie or parka. Ugh!?"


"Fashionista alert!" Sarah scrunched her faux-tan face like an armadillo. "Call Tyra, stat!"


The two girls cackled like banshees.


"All right class," the gray-haired professor cleared his throat. "Let's quiet down."


Sarah slid her Aeropostle backpack to the ground and Britney applied a fifth coat of lip gloss.


"We've got a few more oral-recitations to finish up before we get started today. Clara," the professor pointed to the girl in the corner. "Would you like to read your poem to the class?"


"Okay," Clara sounded like a scared mouse.


"This'll be good," Britney whispered to Sarah.


Clara pushed her long, dirt colored hair out of her eyes. She wore no make-up and acne was speckled across her face. She was awkwardly tall and very broad shouldered. "My poem is called Deity," she muttered nervously.


"Good Lord," Britney squeaked. Sarah burst into giggles.


"Deity," Clara cleared her throat. "The Deity knows her heart. The Deity knows her soul. The Deity is all-knowing. The Deity has control."


"The Deity needs a nightcap," Sarah whispered.


"Or a man," Britney added with a cocky smile.


"Ladies, please!" The professor gave them a scornful look.


"Sorry, Dr. Johnson," Britney said in a falsetto.


"The Deity," Clara continued apprehensively, "judges no one. The Deity's a saint. The Deity does what's right, especially when you c'aint!" Clara paused, shook her hair out of her eyes, and slumped down to her seat.


"V-very nice," Dr. Johnson clapped. A few others joined in sparingly, but most sat in stunned silence.


"Holy crap", Britney mouthed to Sarah.


"Wow," a boy in front of them turned around. "That's the weirdest thing I've ever heard."


"Definitely," Britney agreed.


* * *


An hour later, the eager students rushed out of the classroom. Britney and Sarah lagged behind.

"See," Britney grinned. "Wasn't that awesome?"


"Yeah," Sarah nodded. "She's one odd duck, all right."


"Well, I'm off to my dance class. We're picking partners for the Rumba," Britney squealed like a sow. "I SO want to be picked by a hottie!!!"


"We should get a manny after my Biology test," said Sarah.


"For sure-shees!" Britney blew her a kiss. "Tootles!!!"


"Tootles," Sarah waved. She walked down the hall and stopped in front of the drinking fountain. A gargoyle-esque figure was hunched over, gulping it down like a failing ficus. "Ugh," Sarah groaned impatiently.


"Oh, sorry," Clara backed up slowly, wiping slobber from her chin.


"Uh-huh," Sarah rolled her eyes. She lapped her water gracefully, turned, and headed towards the doors.


"Tell Aunt Cindy hi from me," Clara called out. "We're all praying she gets better soon."


Sarah rubbed the bracelet in her fingers; a gift from her mother when she turned sixteen. "Yeah," she looked past Clara. "I will."


Clara wiped her nose on her sleeve and headed off to math.

Once upon a time

There was a fair maiden who worked in the kingdom of Targetia. Everyday she went there and spent 8 hours or so trapped in a dungeon where the visitors would throw their garments down at her. She would be responsible to clean the garments off and send them back up so they could, eventually, get thrown back down at her again. T'was a tedious, yet noble task! As the visitors walked by and taunted the maiden she was forced to smile and be polite--no matter how irritating the visitors acted. The maiden worked hard and every other week she was rewarded with one gold coin--the bare minimum that she was allowed to receive. But the maiden was a good worker and never complained about the harsh conditions of her work.

One day when the maiden arrived at Targetia she was asked to summon a servant to take the place of another servant who had grown quite ill. The maiden was sometimes required to call upon servants by the aide of a small fairy named Telly Phone. Telly had the power to transport herself to each servant's home and let the servant know that they were needed in Targetia. However, after and hour and a half of using Telly, the poor maiden was unable to find a replacement for the ill servant--and to make matters worse, ANOTHER servant had grown ill, which left the kingdom of Targetia greatly shorthanded. The maiden was greatly saddened that her fellow servants had ignored Telly because that is just a mean, mean thing to do.

When the maiden informed her leader, Sir Nick, that Telly was unable to reach anybody Sir Nick told the maiden that he appreciated her effort--but the maiden could tell that he wished the outcome would have been different. The maiden had often heard talk among other servants that they wished they could put in more hours in Targetia because there was an economic crisis at that time and every gold coin earned was very much needed. However, these same servants were the ones who ignored Telly when Targetia needed them most. Many of them did not want to come in because it was the Night of Friday--a time of dinner, dancing, and other whimsical nonsense.

The rest of the maiden's night was very stressful because many, many visitors kept throwing clothes at her. The maiden felt like the other servants had abandoned her and greatly wished that at least ONE of them would have answered Telly's call for help.

And so, the fair maiden did her very best, yet the dungeon was left in shambles. As she rode her white horse home she hoped and prayed that when she would return to Targetia in the morning she would not be criticized by knights who ruled her. Because, after all, she had tried her very, very best.



The End.

Based on a true story of events that happened on 2/27/2009