“Hard To Get”–flash fiction, Difficult People

Hard To Get



          “Celia, please try not to be available, so easy.”

          “You mean hard to get?”

          “Well, yes. Let me pursue you. Fight me. Make it a challenge to possess you.”

          “I can do that, sweetie but I don’t wanna fight too long. Remember that cottage in Maine. The neighbors thought a homicide was in progress.”

          “That was too extreme. Those lobster claws really hurt.”

          “They’re cannibals, you know. That’s why they bind their claws.”

          “I was trying to eat you that night, metaphorically.”

          “My screams, my pleadings didn’t sound literary?”

          “They sounded like, hello 911!”

          “The police came.”

          “But we’d settled down. I’d showered off the butter.”

          “I’d hidden the bong and aired out the front room.”

          “Rehearsing a play, you said, standing bravely in the front door’s threatening void. That turned me on.”

          “Really? They called out, you okay, ma’am, remember?”

          “And I said, sure…just having some vacationland fun!”

          “Yes…and then they went away and reassured our neighbors who were gathered on the lawn hoping to see a gurney and body.”

          “It was lovely on the water at Pine Crest.”

          “Could’ve been a murder, faked it, just for their entertainment. The man next door spoke to me the next morning, then said, she must be a wildcat, a real live wildcat. Not your stuffed variety.”

          “And you said, yeah, and she’s playing hard to get.”




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