Microfiction Monday #6: Footsteps

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…wherein two gentlemen have a bit of fun…

Kevin and his exotic-looking friend Calvino spent the afternoon in his room, with their ears firmly fixed on the comings and goings in the hallway outside, engrossed in a game that required them to guess who was walking down the hallway, using just the sound of their footsteps as a clue.

“Two men, carrying a heavy box.” Calvino called at the sound of two sets of rapid irregular footsteps accompanied by grunting. A moment later, two men walked past the door carrying a heavy-looking case.

“Two children and a woman.” Kevin excitedly offered his guess at a new set of steps coming from the hallway.

“Not just any woman, their mother, and it’s three not two, she’s carrying another on her back.” Calvino added confidently.

Soon enough, a weary-looking woman passed, with a baby strapped to her back with a leso and two chubby kids dressed identically in tow, holding hands and struggling to keep up with her. Calvino seemed incapable of containing his joy at how accurate his prediction turned out.

Presently, the sharp unmistakable sound of high heels on tiled floor floated in from the hallway.

“Easy, this one.” Proclaimed Kevin, “Must be one of the nurses.”

“Not quite.” Calvino beamed once more.

“Well who else would hear high heels?” Complained Kevin.

“Wait and see.” Calvino seemed about to burst with laughter.

Not long after, Mr Jones from Ward C next passed, fully dressed in attire befitting a lady of the party-going type, from a blouse and skirt all the way down to a cherry lipstick and mascara, and looking so comfortable in this dress configuration it was all Kevin and Calvino could do not to roll on the floor laughing, until he’d passed.

When finally their fit of laughter came to an end, it was to be promptly followed by another set of high heel footsteps, except these ones came with an urgency that could only mean one thing.

Calvino looked at Kevin once more, only this time he wasn’t beaming, but had a look of alarm on his face. “Oh dear, you’re in trouble my friend. Laters.” He flashed a deuces and then disappeared in a puff of smoke at the snap of his fingers.

An angry-looking nurse appeared in the frame of the door looking like she might melt away and morph into a volcano how cross she looked.

“Just look at him.” She snapped, “All jacked up on stolen morphine he is…and smiling like a fool. Are you planning on getting released from here, you sorry cud-chewing ignoramus? Because am having enough trouble as it is taking care of a cross-dressing middle aged married man and father of two gallivanting around like he owns the place without having a junkie who does not intend on getting better wasting my valuable time and effort.”

Or is it simply that you’re making your case to be transferred to ward C?”

Kevin felt troubled at the last words and he wondered if Calvino would ever teach him that vanishing act he was so good at.

Microfiction Monday #2: Objects In The Mirror.

…wherein Kagame gets a new side mirror…

Kagame had a rocky week and he complained as much to his confidant Rambo.

“It all started when I damaged my car’s side mirror and replaced it.” He nudged his head towards the new mirror. “First day I used it, I saw a monster rushing towards me, a terrifying monster, with fire blazing through its eyes and smoke billowing from its ears and nostrils. I panicked so much I pulled the car into reverse and rammed the accelerator to the floor without stopping to think it through.”

“And you hit the monster?” Rambo asked with bated breath.

“Thank heavens I didn’t because it turns out there wasn’t any monster in the first place. It was…my wife.”

“Ooh…how’d she react to that?”

“Have I shown you my new scars?” Kagame tenderly lifted his shirt to display the altered geography of his chest and back. Rambo winced.

“Two days later, I swear to God, I saw a leopard charging towards the car while I was heading back home from work. Then…” Kagame smiled unamusedly, “Then it turned out the leopard was nothing more than a stray cat.”

“Well this explains it.” Rambo said standing over the side mirror, “This text right here, it says ‘Objects in the mirror appear more bad-a** than they really are.’”

“I don’t see anything.” Said a squinting Kagame.

“Really, it’s right there…oh now it’s changed, now it says, ‘Mind your own business, you joint-smoking troll’. Who did you buy this thing from?”

“Well that’s the thing, the man who sold it to me was an unassumingly respectable fella. He had nothing on but a straw hat and faded jeans shorts, and an impressive array of bead ornaments around his neck and arms. Oh and he called himself Salim Makame, Simba wa Pwani (Lion of the Coast)…what?”

Rambo was shaking his head. “Nothing, except sometimes I forget you are the CEO of a multibillion company how gullible you can get.”