This last semester I proposed a writing contest to one of my previous professors and mentors, Steve Stewart. He teaches a creative writing class at BYU-Idaho. I told him that I would publish the two best short stories his classes could write. The rules he gave them were that it had to be flash fiction, it had to begin in the middle of action, and it had to contain at least three characters. This is the first of the two, called “Rick’s New Coat.” Enjoy.
Rick’s New Coat
By: Katie Taylor and Abe Larsen
“Thanks for nuthin’, ya jerk. I guess ya never read the Bible!”
“Looks like today is already goin’ good for ya, Rick. By the way, that’s a nice coat,” Paul said as he sat down on the bench next to Rick.
Paul was a balding man that had an ample amount of facial hair which was matted and tangled. Rick had a black ponytail and cracked glasses and the girth of Santa Claus at Christmas time. George was skinny and he had a nervous tick causing him to blink and then jerk his head to the left. Every Tuesday Paul, Rick, and George met up at Demmyre Park.
Looking down at his coat, full of holes, patches, and stains, Rick smiled, showing the brown stains on his teeth. The coat was neon blue with a sunshine yellow streak and a fuchsia circle over the shoulder.
“Thanks. I got it yesterday. It was hangin’ out a dumpster by a doughnut shop. There’s always great stuff there,” said Rick.
“I got a good scroungin’ place too. That’s where I found these shoes. They even got built in air conditionin,” chimed in George.
“Where at?” Paul asked.
“Ya know the corner of Oak and Pine?
“Yeah, I know the spot,” said Paul.
I found it last year as I was lookin for a new spot to put my box,” continued George. “The corner of Oak and Maple is goin to the druggies. It is givin us respectable bums a bad name.”
“Ya gotta spot, Paul?” asked Rick.
“Well my spot ain’t any of those spots. And I ain’t gonna tell ya where it’s at cause I don’t want ya comin round pinchin my stuff,” said Paul.
“Are ya accusin’ us of stealin?” Rick asked disbelievingly.
“Spose I am.”
“That’s against the bum’s code of honor!”
“I don’t much care.”
Rick got to his feet and huffed as he walked away, “Well, I ain’t gonna stay where I ain’t welcome! Even a bum’s gotta have a little dignity.”
Paul and George glared at each other. They got up and walked off in opposite directions. Later that day, Paul walked back to his “favorite spot” to go find something for dinner. To his horror, he found his “friends” there waiting for him.
