OLWG · writing

OLWG#72- One of the Girls

Flash fiction written for OLWG#72

Bitsy clasped the pile of dungarees and gabardine to her breast and announced to everyone within the sound of her voice, “There’s been a mistake, I shouldn’t be here.”

A big girl who looked a bit like Betty Page and wore a blue uniform yelled from the door, “Move along, ladies. We ain’t got all day. Move it, move it.”

Another girl, with a blue Mohawk haircut and a lot of piercings put her hand in the middle of Bitsy’s back and shoved, “You heard her. Get moving’.”

“Jeeze, OK, OK. I’m going.”

As Bitsy moved on down the line she received a stack of white t-shirts, and a web belt. She got a pair of black round toed boots, and two plastic packages of white granny panties. All of these things she pushed into the green duffel they gave her when she first entered the long hallway-like room.

Drawing closer to the Betty Page look-alike, by the door, Bitsy found herself facing a redhead with a mermaid tattoo on her forearm. She barked, “Cup size?”

“I beg your pardon?” Bitsy asked back?”

“Cup size? Cup size?” she stared at Bitsy’s eyes.

Bitsy looked down at her chest, “Uhm, B?” she said. “Thirty-two B.”

Mermaid tattoo reached over and grabbed a handful of white underwire bras and thrust them out.

“Don’t you have something lacy?” Bitsy asked; which drew another shove from ‘blue Mohawk’. “Please don’t do that again.”

As they came abreast of the big girl, who somehow seemed to be in charge, Bitsy stopped and said with her most polite manner, the way her abuelita taught her. She said, “’Scuse me, there’s been a terrible mistake. I’m not supposed to be here. Can you show me the way to the office so I can get this straightened out?”

“What’s your name, Princess?” the Betty Page girl asked.

“Bitsy,” smiling. “Bitsy Bustamante.”

“Well, Princess Bitsy, why don’t you just fall in outside there with the rest of the girls and we can talk about this after we all get our makeovers?” Then she whispered out of the corner of her mouth, “new hairdos.”

Bitsy was about to express her approval when Blue Mohawk shoved her for the final time, this time though, Bitsy spun around and latched onto a heavy ring that Mohawk Girl wore in a piercing through her left nostril. It ripped all the way out and even Bitsy was amazed by the amount of blood produced.

“I asked you nicely,” Bitsy said.

Betty laughed, “I think you do belong here, Princess. I think you’re going to fit right in.”

This week’s prompts were:

  1. If it’s too perfect
  2. move along
  3. one of the girls

OLWG · writing

OLWG#58- Interview

Just a moment or two
Written for OLWG#58

Brian Yednak looked at his phone. It was a message from reception telling him that his 1030 appointment was in the lobby. Sighing, he rose from the desk, pulled his sport coat on over his shirt and felt the pocket for his pipe. It was there and he longed to take it out, clench the stem between his teeth, and inhale the ‘over processed’ office air through the scented tobacco that he had loaded in the bowl. Years ago he could have gotten away with that but not today. These days you weren’t allowed to smoke at work. Hell, he couldn’t even wear aftershave, or a scented deodorant. Somebody might be allergic to it.

Brian grinned to himself as he made his way into the passage and headed to reception. Girls used to like the ‘Sport’ scent that he wore then. Girls liked ‘Sport’ and when it was combined with the vanilla scented tobacco, it drove ‘em crazy. Well those things combined with his boyish grin used to pack ‘em in. Then the world changed, but it was OK. These days; girls loved secrets. They’d do anything if they thought it would get you to tell them your secrets. Brian found it easy to make up secrets but he was getting older, he didn’t smell like ‘Sport’ anymore and couldn’t smoke in the office. Girls were harder to come by nowadays. He turned right at the main corridor and pushed his way through the door out to the reception and there waited a young guy with a bad haircut and an ill fitting suit; he was tall and lanky when he stood, appearing to be about twenty-five pounds underweight. He looked in Brian’s direction, but not actually at Brian. He didn’t say a word.

“Ballantyne?” Brian asked.

The young man nodded his head and glanced at a small slip of paper he held in his hand, “Mr. Redneck?” he asked back.

Brian grimaced, “Yednak,” he corrected the young man, “Yednak.”


“My name… its Yednak. Not Redneck.”

“Oh, sorry; my mom took the message. She wrote Redneck. She’s getting older and her hearing must be starting to go.”

“Not a problem – happens all the time. You should just call me Brian. How old is she?”


“Who? Well your mom. Weren’t you talking about your mom?”

“Oh, yeah. She’s really old. She’ll be fifty in a couple of years. In some ways she’s still good, ya know? I mean, she still drives and cooks and all. She gave me a ride here today because, I don’t drive. She parked in the shade under that big tree in the lot. Do you think she’ll be OK there?”

There was an awkward pause until Brian laughed. He clapped the young man on the shoulder, “Let’s go down the hall. There should be a free meeting room close by.” He looked at Emily, the receptionist who nodded.

“407 should be free,” Emily informed them. She leaned over and handed Ballantyne a sticky note that she had folded in half. Her hand lingered on his.

“Call me, Matthew,” she blushed and looked down, “anytime.”

“Oh, sure, thanks.” he replied as he hurried after Brian Yednak who was strolling down the passageway, shaking his head from side to side.

This weeks prompts:

  1. a young guy with a bad haircut
  2. did you really think it through
  3. put that away