Flash Fiction: Hot Chicks

He thinks he’s suave in his Ray-Ban sunglasses.

“Sorry,” he grins, “I can’t lie, I dig hot chicks!”

“Uh-huh,” I nod

He puts on welding gloves and reaches into his pet carrier. Seeing red, flaming little birds, I squee.

“Baby phoenixes!”

This guy is suave.



Copyright © 2020 by Jason H. Abbott, All Rights Reserved.

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