Fire Escape: Flash Fiction

Fire Escape

This is one of my stories from Suppose: Drabbles, Flash Fiction, and Short Stories.

Is our Good Samaritan a hero or a harebrain? You decide.

“EyeInfo12 NewsBeat now takes you live to Patsy Reasoner.”

“Thanks, Bill. I’m here on Alder Avenue with a woman who would like to remain anonymous. She was just involved in a bizarre rescue by a Good Samaritan firefighter. Ma’am, what happened?”

“Well, I s’ppose I should start at the beginning. One of my neighbors invited me to a costume party. Like my zombie-bride outfit?”

“I must admit it looks authentic. When I first saw the bruises, I thought they were real. So, what happened, ma’am?”

“I was walking to the party when a young kid wiped out on a bike. Right over there. With my fake cast and these six-inch fingernails, I couldn’t help. The fingernails are real, by the way. Took me months to grow them. Anyway, I couldn’t help, so I called 911.”

“I thought you were the person rescued.”

“Lemme finish. This firefighter came running up outta nowhere like some kinda superhero. I shouted at him to help the boy. So he did. Lemme tell you, that kid wasn’t very nice. He stole the firefighter’s wallet. I tried to bean the little brat with my cast. But I missed. It threw me off balance, and I hurt my ankle. The firefighter stayed to look after me instead of running off to get his wallet back.”

“So, he’s the hero?”

“Yeah. Strange thing, though. He had a beard and a mustache. Not allowed for firefighters, far as I know. So I figured he was a fake. But he looked kinda familiar. Then he started gyrating around and taking off his clothes. When the police showed up, they arrested him for indecent exposure.”

“Really?”

“Turns out he was a college student doing male stripper stuff on the side, and he thought I was the bride-to-be for his next gig. Bit of a harebrain for doing it in public, but …”

“Oh, I’m so sorry you had to go through such a harrowing ordeal.”

“Wasn’t so bad. He put on a pretty good show before the cops arrived, and I gave him a generous tip. But I think he’ll be really embarrassed when I show up to pay his bail.”

“You’re going to pay his bail?”

“That’s my plan.”

“And why would he be embarrassed?”

“I haven’t seen him in years, but when he turned around, I recognized him by a birthmark on his butt.”

“An ex-boyfriend?”

“Nope. I used to change his diapers. I’m his aunt.”

You’ll find more short fiction like this in Suppose: Drabbles, Flash Fiction, and Short Stories.


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