Zuklear

ZUKLEAR

INT. BEDROOM - DAY

LANI lies swaddled under blankets in her darkened room. Clock radio reads Weds Aug 28 11:00 AM. ALAN enters room, stopping to take note of his wife’s condition.

ALAN

Are you alright?

LANI

(muffled)

Huh? (beat) What do you think?

ALAN

You’re all bundled up and it’s August. It’s warm in here and it’s even hotter outside. You’ve been like this for days.

LANI

(muffled)

Yeah, well, that happens when people get the flu during summer. I’ve got a fever and I feel chilled because of it.

ALAN

Do you need anything? Are you sure you shouldn’t see the doctor?

LANI

No, I’m drinking fluids, getting rest, and I’m not paying two hundred bucks to sit in a waiting room filled with sick people for two hours just so Doc can tell me my symptoms suggest I’ve got the flu, drink fluids, and rest.

ALAN

Okay, then. I’ll just get you some fresh water. Anything else?

LANI

Can you go to Shelley’s and pick the vegetables in her garden? She left Sunday and won’t be back until Tuesday.

ALAN

Can’t her boyfriend pick the garden? I’ve got a meeting at the office, a lunch meeting, and then a golf match.

LANI

(moans) Jay got a small contract job and won’t be around during the day. Don’t worry about it. We’ll have to hope it doesn’t rain or the vegetables will go nuts.

ALAN

Um, it’s sprinkling now. It’s supposed to pour tonight.

LANI

Thanks. I feel so much better knowing that. (sighs)

ALAN

Go back to sleep. It’ll be fine. I’ll see you tonight.

FADE OUT.

INT. HOME OFFICE - EARLY EVENING

LANI is seated at her desk, beneath a calendar displaying the day’s date, Tues September 3. She’s still sniffling a bit and wearing a sweater. LANI picks up the phone on her desk when it rings.

Bake Sale

BAKE SALE

INT. KITCHEN AREA, GREAT ROOM - EARLY EVENING

Single, late twenty-something BETH sits on a stool at the bar in her plush modern apartment as she talks on the phone.

BETH

Sure, sweetie, I can make some cookies for your bake sale. Just because your mom is away on business doesn’t mean you can’t contribute some cookies to the fundraiser.

A large cat jumps up and plops down onto the stool next to her. BETH pets the cat.

BETH

Six dozen, wrapped in individual dozens? No problem, I’ll drop them off in the morning at your school. In the front hall? Sure. (beat) Your auntie loves you too, sweetie. You’re my favorite niece.

(beat) Yes, my only niece. You’re getting awfully smart. Bye for now, Lizzie. (hangs phone on wall)

BETH strides around the bar to the refrigerator and takes out two tubes of cookie dough before turning on the oven and getting out a knife and several cookie sheet pans.

After reading the instructions, BETH proceeds to open a tube of dough and prepare two pans with half of the first tube of dough.

The phone rings as she puts the pans in the oven. BETH answers the phone.

BETH

Hello? Oh, hey. No, I’m just baking some cookies for my niece’s bake sale at school. My sister’s on a business trip.

(beat) Oh hell no, I don’t make the dough, I hate cooking. I’m total fail at it. They didn’t teach that in business school, you know?

(beat) Yeah, it’s not difficult to fake-bake, I’m just using some store-bought dough in tubes. The tough part is PMS-ing. I could eat an entire tube right now before I even bake them. (laughs)

BETH breaks off a big chunk of dough and proceeds to nibble on it while on it while she listens to her caller.

Time Travelnaut Number One

TIME TRAVELNAUT NUMBER ONE

INT. PRIVATE HOME LABORATORY

MR. JOHNSON, a thirty-something year-old scientist, sits on a stool at a lab bench, multiple monitors and a computer before him while above and around him the large room is filled with molecular models and blueprints of equipment.

MRS. JOHNSON, his thirty-something year-old wife, sits on a stool next to him, peering at some calculations and graphic models on the displays as he punches away at his keyboard.

MR. JOHNSON

So you see, there’s no good reason based on these peer-reviewed calculations why women can’t time travel. It’s just gender-biased nonsense in science fiction that prevents us from seeing both women and men attempt to leap ahead to the future.

MRS. JOHNSON

Well, I’m game if you’re game. We don’t have kids, the house is paid off, my will is made out. I’ll give it a shot and be the first female human guinea pig, so to speak. Send me to the future!

MR. JOHNSON

I’m concerned, of course. There’s no absolute guarantee this is safe. But I’m okay with this if you’re okay. Let’s give it a whirl. The equipment is ready whenever you are, dear.

The pair jump off their stools and cross the lab, approaching a large, stainless steel box about the same size as a commercial freezer, fitted with many electronic displays, buttons, lights, wires, tubes, and switches.

MRS. JOHNSON slips on a nondescript jacket with a small flower-like brooch on the lapel. MR. JOHNSON adjusts the lapel and then turns on a small video display next to the box. The brooch appears to be a spy camera, currently showing MR. JOHNSON as he continues to fuss with the brooch before closing the top button of his wife’s jacket.

MR. JOHNSON turns on video cameras inside and outside the box. More displays outside the box show both the empty interior of the box and the couple outside the box.

MRS. JOHNSON waves to the small exterior camera pointed in her direction, before reaching out for her husband to give him a hug and a brief kiss.

Hot Enough

HOT ENOUGH

EXT. LOCAL MUNICIPAL PARK

MR. FREEZE and BATMAN sit an arm’s length apart at one end of a very long park bench in summer afternoon sun. The once-green grass around them has dried down and yellowed. The park is quiet except for the sound of children playing in a fountain and a dog barking in the distance.

MR. FREEZE

(as if to himself)

I don’t remember it ever being so hot that I didn’t feel like committing mayhem.

BATMAN

(beat) I don’t remember it ever being so hot that I couldn’t be bothered about your troublemaking.

(beat) I’m so uncomfortable I can’t move.

They sit motionless, a warm breeze playing with BATMAN’s cape as it hangs over the bench. MR. FREEZE pulls a handkerchief out of his pants’ pocket and blots his forehead, his brow knotted in frustration.

MR. FREEZE

Damn it. It’s so fucking hot today, my makeup is melting.

BATMAN

(beat) Tell me about it. My nuts are deep-frying in this stupid Spanx suit.

BATMAN wiggles his right leg as if to ease his groin. The two men continue their vigil.

Hi Hello

No segue eased him into her life, merely an abrupt switching of the line as the help desk engaged different departments.

 “And now we turn over the month-end migration to local support in Seattle. Chicago project management will stay on to assist.”

 A click and then just the two of them, keeping each other company.

 Software chugged, hard drives churned, creating grey data snow while his deep-as-night voice kept her company during the longest hours.

With a click Manila cut in as dawn approached; Chicago was gone until next month.

But then emails arrived, asking first about business. Then about Seattle; questions unfinished from last month-end were re-asked and answered.

She couldn’t imagine a month-end without hearing his voice.

 Until suddenly it wasn’t him. She was heartsick; he was the only thing that made the lonely midnight shift bearable during those long, dark hours.

 She debated about finding another job as she eked through her shift.

 This was the last month-end I’ll work, she thought as she shut her office and entered the foyer.

 “Hi,” said a familiar voice with a Chicago accent.

 “Hello,” she smiled, realizing only now that she had much to look forward to before next month-end.
__________
Copyright © 2013 Femme Malheureuse 
Words: 200
Originally submitted to fan fic flash fic - Week 30
Photo prompt: origin unknown

Waves

I hear your voice, ebbing and flowing. Sometimes your words are clear like the starlit sky. Sometimes they are inky-dark like the autumn ocean at high tide.

I dreamt of you, swimming with the current. Your smile beckoned whitely, your flesh gleaming wondrous as my name wet your lips.

I am powerless to resist as you call to me. No more than the sea can fend off the moon’s perigee can I muster the strength to pull away.

I cannot help myself, wading into the waves which held you aloft one time too few. Every joy I ever had was in your arms, and to that happy place I long to return.

I float beneath indifferent clouds, waiting for the moment when the heavens will part. Water then will wash away the susurrus veil that separates us, once and for all.

__________

Copyright © 2013 Femme Malheureuse 

Words: 141

Originally submitted to fan fic flash fic - Week 28

Photo prompt: origin unknown | Audio prompt: Gregory and the Hawk's Boats and Birds.

Poker

“Surely you understood when the first hand was dealt this was a risk.”

“That you would cheat and wear more clothing? No, I really hadn’t thought that far ahead.” He took another sip of his drink as he contemplated the silken skin of her rounded bottom parked on the green baize of the gaming table.

“Cheat? Me? As if you have any room to talk. Your less-than-subtle signals to your friends to fold was hardly above board.”

“Well. They’re gone. You should thank me for the favor.”

“Thank you? Whatever for?”

“They won’t be here to witness my capitulation to your superior gamesmanship, love.”

“Yes, there is that. I’d like to collect my prize now, if you don’t mind.”

“By all means, please do.” Utterly bereft of clothing, the loser leaned back in his chair, revealing his aroused interest to her view.

She stood, pulling the corset’s laces slowly, teasing his erection with the trailing ends.

He could take no more; he pressed her back onto the table, pushing himself deeply into her warmth again and again. Her legs around him, chips and cards flew as she came and he followed.

“I won,” she sighed.

Sated, he smirked. “Me too.”
__________

Copyright © 2013 Femme Malheureuse
Words: 200
Originally submitted to Sinful Sunday—Week 42 via Rebecca Grace Allen
Photo prompt: origin unknown | Word prompt: tease
Awarded Honorable Mention