Acid Dreams and Protest Scenes

This story is flash fiction. Flash fiction was started when Hemingway took a a bet that he couldn't write a story in less than seven words. His response was: "For sale: Baby shoes, never worn". 

The point of flash fiction is to tell a story with as few words as possible, usually less than 1000 words. 

Enjoy!

      So this one time, Cliff (you remember Cliff?), Cliff and I went to this party to protest something. You know: signs, paint, naked people holding babies… all that good shit. Some granolas were mackin’ on us, and we took some cid, right? After my tongue melted and my pants got wet, things got all fast, yanno?            

      Next thing I know, my dad came out of the house I was peein’ on, “HEEEEY…. Didn’t know you’d be here…”

      I could see in his eyes he was trippin’. “Neither did I… when’d jew get here?

      His eyes dropped, “Well… when your mother left… I just couldn’t stay in that house… you know…”

      I nodded, “That’s how I got here…”

      Dad’s face got serious, “Look son, you know that you can’t keep doin’ whatcha doin’. You know you’re going to end up dead like she did. Maybe even worse.”

      I laughed like an idiot for a second until I realized Cliff wasn’t laughing. He was passed out in the street, gagging for air. I wanted to move, but I couldn’t. I was transfixed on Dad.

      “Look, you may not care anymore, but I do. I know you may not have thought I cared much, but I give a damn. I give a damn about you and I give about your future. You’re a smart kid, always have been. Don’t piss it away because you’re mad at me… use your smarts to do something. Do something for you… Do something for him… dammit, DO SOMETHING!”

      We sat there and listened to the fluorescent streetlights and Cliff roll around in his vomit. I looked over at him, but I still couldn't walk away without saying something to Dad.

      “Hey…” I said, looking at the ground, “I know this the prolly the cid talking and that you’re still dead as a fucking doornail… but still… since you’re here, why did you leave me? I’m not Mom you know…”

      His head dropped to the ground in shame as he kicked the dirt with his toes. Then, with a sad smile, he said, “I dunno… maybe it’s because I finally realized you stopped lookin’ for me. I love you too much to stay around when you don’t want me… The last thing I want to give up is being a gentleman.”

      A labored cough came from behind me. I turned around to find Cliff almost turning blue. I looked to Dad, “Can you do something about that?”

      “Sure…” he smiled, “But you won’t like it…”

      “Dude, I gotta save Cliff…” I whined, still stoned out of my mind.

      That’s when the cops showed up, I got a really nasty date with a rubber glove, and there’s a big guy named Bubba in the slammer that keeps calling my cell phone. Cliff’s alright… I think… says he no longer needs his yearly exam...

      But seriously… Swear to God man… that’s how it happened… Swear to God…