(Author’s note: I have been gone the last couple weeks, due to many different issues coming up and rearing their head, such as a digestive issue. I intend on doing more. It’s just taking a little longer to get things moving. Here’s today’s Fictioneers!)
by Miles H. Rost
Jim stood outside the bus depot, cigarette in hand, cold air on his face. A rush of exhaust passed by him as a Greyhound pulled up.
“Sorry, I’m late, Jim,” His partner, Warren, huffed as he ran up the sidewalk towards him.
“This better work, Warren. I quit a job buying lingerie for this.”
“It will. They want to take our work and turn it into a musical.”
Jim crushed his cigarette.
“New York, here we come, eh?”
“Well, let’s see what they say. I just hope they don’t turn Sandy into something strange.”
“Like an Australian?”
Chuckling, they boarded.