The Trick-Flash Fiction

“Oh baby, I’m happy I met you. It’s been years . . . years, since I’ve gotten any.” Bruce hustled away from the carnival looking over his shoulder every three seconds like a man trying to get away with something.

Which he was.

He loved his wife, Linda. He did! But the last twenty years had been a nosedive into a monotonous hell. Same routine, night after night. The same routine that left him unsatisfied and hungry. He knew they’d taken those vows together, for better or worse, in sickness and health, but a man could only take so much!

And finally, finally! His daughter Trish had given them the one thing that could steer Linda’s attention from those vows. A granddaughter.

Yes, Melody was only six months old and didn’t give a crap about the carnival, but it distracted Linda long enough for him to sneak away. To get what he wanted, what he’d needed for so very long.

The empty ache in him was about to be filled.

In the distance, the carnival lit the night like a wide-open kaleidoscope. He faltered, fell to his knees on the damp sand. They were far enough away no one would ever see.

“We’ve got five minutes before she comes looking for me. I hope you don’t mind if I’m quick.”

Bruce stared at his foot-long polish sausage covered with chili, cheese, sauerkraut, bacon and mayonnaise for a full thirty seconds before he took his first. Heaven! Thank God for grandchildren.