The International Writers Magazine: Flash Fiction

Franks's Funnel • Jay Marvin The old pickup rattled and squeaked. The tail gate rattled like a prison sentence. Frank tossed a crumpled beer can through the driver's window. His mind was like a flap jack flipped over and over inside his head.

He wanted to feel good about his life. He wanted someone to share his life with. Was this too much for a guy to ask for? He knew he had a tough time making small talk to anyone especially women. Frank wanted to pull out his hunting knife slicing flesh on his both his legs down to the clean, white bones; flesh hanging under hot buffet lights as it were rare roast beef. He loved checking out the tractor trailers, their loads swaying back and forth down the road. He exited to a weather worn Texaco gas station, cafe pulled a soda from the drink box standing in the dirt parking lot letting the ice cold liquid work over his parched throat.

Sixty miles from Twenty Nine Palms Frank glanced at the engine heat gauge. The needle Flesh pushed in to red. The engine was hot, hissing and a steamy fluid blasted up the old truck's windshield. Pulling the hammered green pickup to the side of the highway Frank sprung out the cab. Yanking up the front hood, he smelled a noxious odor clawing the desert air. Probing the burning block, he found the thermostat had choked out. He didn't have a choke. Who caries a choke around? Siting, his back resting on the side of the truck, Frank buried his head in his hands; his eyes watered. Big rigs blasted by in swirls of dust and sand. He needed help. Who could he call? There was no one. He kept to himself in life. It was his childhood; the way he was raised, his family. Frank knew it. He wouldn't let go of it. He hated himself.

He stood up in still,dusty air. There was weird pulling sensation. A funnel of white light rolled out of the dark sky. A young woman dressed in a white, short summer dress looked in his eyes.
He stood in front of her. His legs and hands shaking as if he were in an earthquake. She reached in her dress, produced a brand new choke for his engine.
"What in the world," he said.
"Quiet, Frank. I know everything concerning your life. Fix the truck and take me home."

© JAY MARVIN
jaymarvin@me.com August 2011
Jay recently had a novel published by FC2 "Punk Blood," and three books of poetry.
The one just out is from Howling Dog Press titled "Death Dance."
http://www.leadbullet.wordpress.com

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