Ficlets

The Man About Town

Leonard DiCiccio was a short man, likely a dwarf, but I had honestly never cared to ask. What he lacked in physical height was more than made up for by his earth-shattering ego and ridiculously grand ambitions. Most of his projects were doomed to immediate failure, and yet I continued our friendship by feigning interest in his inventions, and praying his next experiment wouldn’t kill me.

This particular demonstration was already significantly different. I had met him not at the pub, but outside his laboratory, surrounded by the local press. There were at least thirty people attending, and I was overcome by a feeling of both fear and glee – the next massive catastrophe would be public knowledge and not simply a funny story for an old drunk to tell. Maybe this would prompt the city government to take action against my friend, stop him from being so reckless.

“Ladies and gentlemen, today is a red-letter day!”

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