First Entry Round 1 The Flabbergasting Flash-Fic Smackdown 

Larry Zeagar swallowed his second glass of scotch and wiped his eyes. The screen just sat there, complacent, offering nothing in the way of help. His story had run aground leaving the characters in limbo. He stared vacantly. It had to be the strain of trying to meet a deadline.

Select and delete was all he seemed to accomplish, and constant pestering from his publisher was turning him into a wreck. He grabbed a butt from his overflowing ashtray and searched for a light.

"Here you go, Larry."

A flame popped up from a lighter in front of his face and he cried out.

"Hey, it's fine. Nothing to be scared about." The voice rolled smoothly from the lips of the man sitting on the edge of his desk.

Larry back pedalled on his chair, the butt still stuck to his lip. "What the- how did you get in here? Who the hell . . .?" Larry's eyes went wide as he suddenly recognized the man. "You- you're Josh Marchand, from my story!"

"Right. You just left me hanging in that hotel room after wiping out all my dialogue."

"No!" Larry grabbed his head and stared wildly about. "This isn't possible." He was hallucinating, he had to be.

Josh held out his hands. "Look, you put me in this affair with that ditz Linda, and now you've got her worried about her writer husband. It doesn't do the libido a whole lot of good, Larry."

"This is crazy! You can't be here. You- I'm just tired. Stressed." Larry glanced at the bottle of scotch and wondered if maybe he's had too much.

"C'mon, man, I want to know how the heck this turns out."

"I don't know!" Larry stood and began pacing. "I've lost the thread . . ."

"Let's get Linda here and see if we can sort it out together."

"What?" Larry gawked as Josh tapped a few keys and a moment later Linda was standing by his side, her dark hair in a careless ponytail with tendrils hanging down framing the alluring face just as she was portrayed in the story.

"No! No that's not possible. I'm dreaming- I'm- I'm having a breakdown."

"Gee, I hope not, Larry," Linda cooed, "the story was just getting really interesting."

"In your opinion." Josh scoffed.

"You seemed to enjoy what was happening."

"Yeah, until you started whining about your husband."

"I didn't want to hurt him."

"You wouldn't if he didn't find out."

Larry sat with his fists against his ears, muttering denials. He'd done this to himself. Working too long, too hard. He would have to ask for an extension – for some time off. The bickering continued until he could take it no longer and yelled at them to shut up.

"Hey, we're the ones who should be angry, mister. You write us into a situation and then just quit?"

"I told you, I lost the thread. I'm under a lot of pressure and listening to you doesn't help." He paused. What the hell? I'm arguing with fictional characters and they're here, arguing back! He grabbed his scotch and drank straight from the bottle. I need sleep. I'm just fatigued, he thought.

"Well is she going back to her husband or what?"

Josh was becoming abrasive, Larry felt. "Maybe I'll have him catch you both and he tosses you out the bloody window! It would make a great story for him."

"Oh, thanks."

"That's a little harsh, Larry." Linda commented. "Ben isn't a killer, good heavens."

"No? Ben'll be whatever I bloody write him to be. Just because I made him a writer doesn't mean he can't be emotional. "

Josh put a hand on her am. "Okay, let's calm down here. No need for rash statements."

Larry took another gulp from the bottle. "You think so? Maybe rash is just what this story needs." He set the bottle down and sat at the computer, fingers racing over the keys.

"Larry. Larry, wait a minute. This doesn't have to be combative." Josh tried pulling his chair away from the screen.

"What has he written?" Linda tried to read the words. "Oh! He's described Ben and his reaction to finding out."

The chair was pushed aside and Josh bent down to read. He pushed a few keys and then began typing. When he finished he stood and looked at Linda.

"Well?"

Her eyes flitted across the words like an excited butterfly. "Josh, that's brilliant! Do you think he'll approve? He should, it solves his problem." She grinned.

"Keep that happy thought." Josh pulled the chair back and had Larry face the screen. "We found a solution for you."

He read the words, his mouth dropping open and his heart began thudding in his chest. "That's crazy, you can't do that, I'm the writer, I decide."

"Not any more."

******

"How do we write this up?"

"The way the doc concluded, I guess. Sure is the weirdest suicide I've ever seen."

"Yeah." The detective looked around the room. "Looks like he had a fight with himself then threw himself out the window."

"Let's leave the bit about a fight with himself out of the report okay?" His partner suggested, leaning down and scrolling through the document on the screen. "Hey, did you see this?

"That the book he was writing?"

"Yeah but look at this." They both leaned closer.

Josh and Linda wrestled Ben from the chair over to the window. Feet kicked at furniture, and things were spilled and broken as they forced him onto the sill and then heaved him out into the night.

"Hell, Partner, that looks like what happened here. And it continues. Look."

With Ben no longer in the picture, Josh and Linda were free to indulge their affair and enjoy the financial windfall due to Ben for his best seller, Ties That Bind.

"That's the name of this book." They stared at one another, the possibility leaving them both unsettled.