Aethereal Muses: “I don’t know how to be a dinosaur!”

A weekly compilation of collected microfictions composed by yours truly. Follow me on Twitter, Facebook, or Instagram for daily dabs of fiction. If your time is short, these are shorter!

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

Featured Image: The Deino Market, by Earl Lan

She squints at the teens in her kitchen. “You have a girlfriend?” “We met in the arcade, Ma.” Mrs. Gumwit leaves getting a beer. “My son’s a slacker, princess. Don’t waste your time.” “No,” a princess answers holding his hand, “he’s the hero of Hyrune that saved me.” “I don’t know how to be a dinosaur!” “After we get your human body back from the time terrorists and stop them, we’ll return your mind to it,” she said to the T-rex. “I can’t fight terrorists!” She finished duct-taping machine guns to his arms. “Sure you can.” Only a pigeon wandered the street beyond his barred jail window. “Left to the hangman,” Marit sighed. “So much for a wizard’s friendship.” The bird flew to the sill and dropped a ring landing on it. “Hey!” “Perkle?” “Put on the invisibility ring!” it squawked. “You okay?” she asked. “Dizzy,” he said. “It will pass.” “How’d you survive that curse-breaking kiss? The witch made me a very poisonous tree frog.” “I built tolerance. Dabs of poison off and on. Three hospitalizations.” “That’s commitment.” “Also chapstick.” Tasha touched the salvaged, red, Earth-Force starflyer. “I’m calling it, The Ruby, Pop.” He looked at the thirteen-year-old. “I’ll call it our father-daughter project.” “Thrusters are good.” “Hyperdrive’s gone. It’ll be spaceworthy, but sub-light.” “Still sweet!” “Clue me in on what I’m looking at here.” “The snail farmer’s giant gastropod ate my summon cannon scroll and fleet-foot root!” the wizard says. “We can’t stop the bandit army now.” “Hold my ale,” the warrior asks, grabbing reins. “Hi-yo, Howitzer-Snail! Away!” He throws his punch to finish me. “You have no power!” My ass kicked, I catch his fist one-handed. “I do.” “How—” “Old school anime protagonist power.” “That’s impossible! The gigaton force of that punch was, was…” “Say it!” I yell. “Over 9,000!!!”

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