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ds_flashfiction2004-04-22 05:33 pm
insptr-penguin.livejournal.com) wrote in ds_flashfiction2004-04-22 05:33 pm
Entry tags:
Miracles Challenge
Okay, here's 437 words I'm (barely) willing to let see the light of day.
“Pardon me, Ray?”
Fraser looked baffled and slightly accusatory, his puzzled gaze flicked from the shoulder of his serge jacket to me.
I shook my head in momentary disbelief before I realized Fraser was serious and then a chuckle escaped me. “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of-“
“Punch buggy, no punch back? I haven’t an inkling as to what you are talking about.” Fraser’s diction was becoming more precise with each word, a sure sign that he was confused and not extremely happy about it.
I ran a hand through my hair and attempted unsuccessfully to quash my grin. “Oh right. Forgot you grew up on an ice floe, Frase. “
“Even if that were true, it would hardly be relevant to enable me to understand what prompted your sudden aberrant behavior, Ray. Might I ask why you felt compelled to pummel me on the shoulder and recite some sort of childish phrase?”
“Aw hell, Fraser. I’m not sure how to explain it to you. It’s just one of those things you do, y’know when you’re sitting with a buddy and see a VW bug go by…”
Fraser did that thing he does with his face that’s not exactly an eyebrow raise but is more than a forehead wrinkle. It’s funnier when he does it with the Stetson on, but we’re sitting in my car and he’s got it off, probably due to some weird-ass Mountie etiquette rule. It’s still endearing though. “Does the punching have some kind of symbolic significance behind it?”
I shrugged, “I dunno. It’s just something you learn as a kid. For good luck I guess, maybe.”
He looks unconvinced, but gives me a nod, “Ah. So with this act you hope to produce good fortune or a minor miracle of sorts?”
I opened my mouth to deny it and stopped. “Yeah, I guess that’s it. But it’s not really that serious. Nobody actually believes that; it’s just a game.”
Whatever Fraser was going to say next was cut off by the cell phone ringing. I fumbled it out of my jacket pocket and answered. “ Vecchio.”
It was Welsh calling to let us know that he was recalling us from the stakeout. Some new evidence had come to light that could break the case and he wanted us back at the station.
I said, “Yeah, we’ll be there as soon as possible” and hung up.
“Something came up?” Fraser asked.
“Yeah,” I said, “It sounds like someone who witnessed the shooting felt guilty enough to finally come forward and make an ID.”
He raised an eyebrow, “Perhaps, that was your miracle.”
“Pardon me, Ray?”
Fraser looked baffled and slightly accusatory, his puzzled gaze flicked from the shoulder of his serge jacket to me.
I shook my head in momentary disbelief before I realized Fraser was serious and then a chuckle escaped me. “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of-“
“Punch buggy, no punch back? I haven’t an inkling as to what you are talking about.” Fraser’s diction was becoming more precise with each word, a sure sign that he was confused and not extremely happy about it.
I ran a hand through my hair and attempted unsuccessfully to quash my grin. “Oh right. Forgot you grew up on an ice floe, Frase. “
“Even if that were true, it would hardly be relevant to enable me to understand what prompted your sudden aberrant behavior, Ray. Might I ask why you felt compelled to pummel me on the shoulder and recite some sort of childish phrase?”
“Aw hell, Fraser. I’m not sure how to explain it to you. It’s just one of those things you do, y’know when you’re sitting with a buddy and see a VW bug go by…”
Fraser did that thing he does with his face that’s not exactly an eyebrow raise but is more than a forehead wrinkle. It’s funnier when he does it with the Stetson on, but we’re sitting in my car and he’s got it off, probably due to some weird-ass Mountie etiquette rule. It’s still endearing though. “Does the punching have some kind of symbolic significance behind it?”
I shrugged, “I dunno. It’s just something you learn as a kid. For good luck I guess, maybe.”
He looks unconvinced, but gives me a nod, “Ah. So with this act you hope to produce good fortune or a minor miracle of sorts?”
I opened my mouth to deny it and stopped. “Yeah, I guess that’s it. But it’s not really that serious. Nobody actually believes that; it’s just a game.”
Whatever Fraser was going to say next was cut off by the cell phone ringing. I fumbled it out of my jacket pocket and answered. “ Vecchio.”
It was Welsh calling to let us know that he was recalling us from the stakeout. Some new evidence had come to light that could break the case and he wanted us back at the station.
I said, “Yeah, we’ll be there as soon as possible” and hung up.
“Something came up?” Fraser asked.
“Yeah,” I said, “It sounds like someone who witnessed the shooting felt guilty enough to finally come forward and make an ID.”
He raised an eyebrow, “Perhaps, that was your miracle.”