Writing flash fiction is a
past time that fills a creative void
and adds to my toolbox.
AN ELF'S LAMENT Short story published online, 2019 - by Damien Edwards
Look around. Green and red leather chairs, hats, coats, shoes shit even the peanuts have green and red M&Ms in them. And everybody smiles all the god damned time. Fucking sheep, all of them. The shots of JD with the hot cocoa chasers just dull the mind enough to get through it. Merry fucking Christmas fat arse.
When I was 120 life was way cooler. The job was just as tasking but I loved what I did. Overtime was a breeze. Shit, we worked hard and partied harder. 24 hour shifts were the norm and we drilled through them like termites through balsa wood. I was also drilling through half the dolls in doll making as well. You can do that when your 120. But at 245 it’s a fuck of a lot harder to drill anything except with my Makita. Besides I’m with Sandy. It’s only been 20 years and we’re both still feeling this relationship out but I got a good feeling about her. She’s in the new tech department. Thanks Christ she’s a pushover for a shot of JD every now and then. I always tell her the more shots she took the taller and more handsome I got. New Tech. Old Tech. Mod Tech. Warm Tech. They give out names to all the departments like you’d give out free smarties to a fat kid. Makes everyone feel specialized.
“We make toys you dumb fucks.”
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“Jimmy, keep it down. You know that fat fuck has ears everywhere.” whispers Mikey as he looks down the bar at the small group of revelers.
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“Yeah I know, but I don’t give much of a damn. It’s December 25th and he’s out doing a run. So just pour me another. I don’t have to meet Sandy for a couple more hours.”
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Mikey was over 400 but you’d swear he wasn’t a day over 250. Built like a brick shit house too. Some say before he went behind the bar he was a Green Goon. Busting up naysayers like me before the big guy turned more Namaste. Guess he figured toys can’t all be built with one hand in a cast. It seems to have worked. Most of the new ones are happy with their lot. The complaints have gone down and productivity is up. But just like sheep they’re happy when they are fed and have a roof over their heads. They say it’s in our DNA to be happy. So what the fuck happened in my test tube. Sandy says I’m the most miserable cuss ever. I know she likes that or at least she got my missing happy genome. Either way she don’t mind and that works for me.
I only got 5 years left on the floor then I’m officially off the clock. I’ll smile and work my ass off like I always have. No shame in hard work. Mikey has offered me up for a spot behind the bar. Doubt that the Red Velvet fuck will consider it. Well I’m good with a wrench and I know all the guys in the sleigh yard so I hope he does consider it.
“Mikey. One more JD and make the cocoa extra sweet.”