I’ve discovered a new talent. I can predict when traffic lights are going to turn red. It’s simple actually. If I’m approaching a light, even if it’s just turned green, it will automatically turn red prior to my vehicle reaching the intersection.
If I’m sitting at a red light, the same rule holds true for drivers approaching the intersection from my left or right. It’s all part of the Secretary of Transportation’s new policy to help fulfill one of Donald Trump’s campaign promises, “Make America Late Again.”
If this is your first visit to Friday Flash Fiction, our 100 traffic cop (who is in no way a woman of few words when engaged in a verbal conversation) is Maddie Blythe Wisoff-Fields. To learn how to participate in this weekly exercise in madness, head over to her blog for instructions. To rent a box in the writers in FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block, click here.
PHOTO PROMPT © Liz Young
Carl shuffled through the swinging doors. Gray-faced and hollow-eyed, he made his way to the bar.
“What’ll ya have, stranger?” The words crawled from the bartender’s mouth and clung to a string of drool dangling from his lips.
“Formaldehyde. And make it a double.”
“Staying long in Purgatory?”
“Not any longer than I have to.” Carl moaned. “I’m just in town for the apocalypse.”
“You and ten thousand others,” said the bartender, picking at the decaying flesh below his right eye. “One piece of advice; stay upwind from the crowd. Old cowboys never die. They just smell that way.”