Back in Atlantic City for his annual convention, Sam looked forward to his yearly lapdance, massage and happy ending, a reward for enduring hours of boring sales panels.
He was the Big Guy who sold parts to the Little Guys who sold parts.
Third day in, he blew off the Tony Robbins wannabes in the convention center and had an incredible afternoon on the casino floor.
At the craps table he struck up a "thing" with a delicious cupcake of a cocktail waitress who agreed to meet him for a smoke on the boardwalk after her shift.
By the time he was finished with his second Marlboro, he had imagined what life could be like with this seemingly amazing woman.
If only the woman he had married - the one buzzing the phone in his pocket - could do it for him the way Cupcake the Cocktail waitress was at the moment...
Thursday, February 12, 2009
THE BALLAD OF SAM SALES AND HIS CONVENTION CUPCAKE (flash fiction)
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
0 comments from fellow 'Basement' dwellers:
Post a Comment
Say something... Anything...