A Spare in the Trunk: Part IX
"Hey, are you ready?" Lys spun around, startled. Jack stood behind her, offering his hand. The fresh, clean AC/DC shirt and jeans made him look younger somehow, more vibrant. Lys gave him her claw and took a step towards him. The comforting rays of...
A Spare in the Trunk: Part XIV
The needle tapped up and down in a rhythm that Jack remembered from his childhood. He pushed the fabric through with beads of sweat trailing down his face. "Why am I the one doing this? Shouldn't you be learning how?" He looked up to see the green...
A Spare in the Trunk: Part XIII
"Were ru noww?" the message asked. _At the store, picking up dinner, got off work early._ Jack typed out the same on his phone. He glanced at the bags in the trunk, sitting next to a set of boxes that had come for him today at work. "What 4 dinner?...
A Spare in the Trunk: Part XV
Jack wrung his hands together. "Not too much now." The green kobold's tail twitched again in agitation. "I know." "Push it gently." Lys adjusted her grip. "I know, shut up. What is this stuff for anyway?" "It...helps stop the CPU from catching on...
A Spare in the Trunk: Part XII
"Jesus, Al. You really came all the way over here just to tell me that?" He knew her better than that, she wasn't the kind of person to rather sun go down on her anger, she brought it to his doorstep instead. He stuck his head out into the muggy night...
A Spare in the Trunk: Part V
A rush of air-conditioned breeze fled through the open door and out into the damp. The scent of hot dogs, nachos, and cleaning agents rode along with it. People browsed the shelves for their next dose of sugar and caffeine. "Go ahead," Jack said....
A Spare in the Trunk: Part VII
Jack held the kiss a moment longer. Melodramatic visions of a noble knight sacrificing everything for love fogged his mind. And his princess had a pair of horns and light green scales. His fingers traced the patterns on her neck and shoulders. Lys...
A Spare in the Trunk: Part X
Black and white checkered floors complimented the salmon-colored walls of gaudy, mass-reproduced 50s memorabilia, infecting the diner with a neon-lit, sterilized nostalgia. A digital jukebox tried making itself heard over the endless chatter and...