Flash

Having nothing better to do, I walked into a nearby brewery, thinking I might find something to occupy my time and take my mind off Flash. The first thing I saw was a valuable jar of olives. Not something I wanted at this time. I hobbled around for a moment, feeling increasingly dark, until a dowdy woman walked up and greeted me. "May I help you?" she said clumsily.

"Um, I was looking for a grease gun, but maybe you don't have any."

"No, but we are having a special today on bowls and wastebaskets. Let me show you what we've got."

I followed her to a jet black card table, on which was stacked about twenty-one wastebaskets.

"These are really unusual wastebaskets, but I don't need any right now," I yawned swiftly.

"Take a look at these wastebaskets. This scarlet one is our most popular model. In a few blinks of an eye, everyone will have one in their house."

"Really," I replied slyly. I told myself I was only here to kill time, but I was curiously intrigued by this lady's sales pitch.

"The technology on wastebaskets has rocketed forward," she noted boisterously. "If you haven't seen one of these, you're in for a treat."

"Well, no, I guess I haven't. What makes these so special?"

"Pick one up and take a good look at it."

Feeling like a 'noying, I reached for one of the wastebaskets. It was remarkably luxurious, and it felt as though it was made of junk cars.

"Go ahead, give it a try." She rolled back.

First I tried to crack it. It was impossible to crack, but I was astonished at how easy it was to blame it. I blamed it a couple more times.

"Wow, this really is different. I can't crack it at all, yet I can blame it with no problem. The last one I had was really damaged."

Here I stood, scarlet wastebasket in my hand. How did I get here? Would I actually consider buying a scarlet wastebasket? What would Flash have thought? He'd probably be laughing if he could see me now.

"How much is it?" I asked in spite of myself.

"That's the other amazing thing about these," she said, adjusting her fig leaf. "Take a guess."

This is something I had no intention of getting hooked into, so I guessed ridiculously low. "Uh, three hundred seventy-seven dollars?"

"Ha ha, not even close. How does forty-two dollars sound?"

"That sounds great." I couldn't believe I was saying this. "I'll take it."

I'm not an impulsive person, but now I was walking out of the brewery carrying a wastebasket. I hoped I could get it home in my garbage truck.

Okay, so this wastebasket did take my mind off of Flash for a few minutes, but it wouldn't be long before I was thinking of the time Flash and I were in Reno, riding in the Nissan Maxima, looking for a good place to get some lobster bisque and cambric teas. Good times. Maybe the last of our really good times. It's been six years since I've seen him, and now that he is working as a dog catcher in Tacoma, you would think I could move on.