A passenger boards a train and approaches a gentleman sitting by himself…
“Excuse me, but do you have any Grey Poupon?” Hope clearly pooling in her eyes.
The gentleman’s steely gaze softened toward her. He felt sorry for her, yet at the same time, couldn’t believe the faux pas she had committed, allowing all those within earshot to hear how destitute she was. She was either very naïve or very brave.
“My good woman, for your own safety, please keep your voice down. Last week someone was foolish enough to ask for a bottle of Perrier.”
“Excuse me?” Her brows knit together in confusion.
“Surely, you must see the dire consequences behind your words?”
How she hated it when someone answered a question with a question. Why can’t people be more direct? She had to keep reminding herself she wasn’t in the States anymore. She truly regretted being sent to Blubberhouses in North Yorkshire, England on this writing assignment. One more week and it’s back to Chicken Bristle, Illinois, she thought. She definitely preferred bristle over blubber any day.
“Look over there,” he pointed with his cane.
She turned. At first she didn’t see anything. After focusing for a minute, she noticed a small monitor. On the screen, she saw herself, along with the gentleman, pointing with his cane.
Cameras? Why cameras?, she asked herself in shock!
As if reading her mind, the gentleman responded, “Ever since we came under the rule of Lord Pompous and Lady Pompadour, it’s not been the same.”
“What’s wrong with asking for Grey Poupon?”
“It’s not what you asked for. It’s that you asked at all because it plainly shows, as far as our Lord and Lady are concerned, the impoverished state in which you are living.”
Just as he was about to continue, with the purpose of saving her, the doors to the car suddenly flew open and in walked a couple of armed guards, smartly dressed in their stately uniforms, marching swiftly toward the woman.
The look of fear in her eyes, and the involuntary gasp escaping her lips said it all.
Kelly Jeanne lives in San Diego with her almost one year old tabby cat by the name of Luna de Miel ('Honeymoon' in Spanish). 63 and on Disability due to Aspergers, along with a myriad of mental health issues, she is writing her memoir, which may very well turn into three books. Because of the dark nature of her memoir she writes flash fiction to keep from going completely insane. Even though she has no notable credentials, she's happy to say that she discovered her literary 'voice' and 'style' when she was a young teenager. Most of her flash fiction pieces are filled with satire, parody and tongue-in-cheek humor - sometimes with just a touch of distopia for good measure. To relax in the evenings she enjoys coloring in her Adult Coloring Books. When people tell her she shouldn't let others rent space inside her head, her response: "Hey! I need the money!"