Ficlets

Olympus Exploding

War, Pest, and Big D were on the ground when Olympus exploded, but Famy’s hog went wheel over wheel ten feet off the ground and exploded in the air when lightning struck it.

Lightning was hitting everything. Telephone poles, cars, even Big D.; it was pissing him off.

“You alright, Famy?” he shouted over the din.

“Bummed about my bike,” Famy said, stripping melted plastic from a gas station ham’n’cheese. “At least my fucking sandwich is warm.”

War’s cherry-red chopper blew when an electric arc hit his ammo. Pest, six feet away, staggered.

They heard a keening howl, then abrupt silence though the storm raged overhead and inside the Greek restaurant. The scene altered, buildings became shells – Berlin, ‘45, or ‘75 Saigon, awaiting the VC. Lean snipers’ shadows flitted behind improvised barricades. A mortar round whistled in the distance.

“I hate it when you do that,” Famy said through a mouthful of Oreos.

“Quieter, ain’t it?” War replied. “Ironic, huh?”

“Now what?” Pest asked.

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