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Firefly's picture

Ok, this one requires an explanation. I am in a writer's group, and every month we are given "assignments" which we are supposed to complete before the next month's meeting. The assignment here was to complete an entire, relatively cohesive story in 10 sentences or less.

So here goes. This is my "Tale in Ten"

My hero arrived dressed in a dark blue coverall, the name “Bubba” stitched in yellow, cursive embroidery above the pocket. The coverall was open to the waist, revealing a stained and tattered t-shirt beneath. “Bubba” had a few hairs on his head and even less teeth in his mouth, but he wielded a wrench and a screwdriver like a god. He entered my torturous pit of a home, and delivered us from a heinous sweltering death. “Bubba” apparently spoke a special language of grunts and huffs, as he worked the miracle on my unwilling air conditioner, coaxing a hum and a rush of cool air from the recalcitrant appliance. In mere minutes, “Bubba” stood before us, invoice in hand. I gladly paid the man. Perhaps my gratitude was a bit much, but then again, you’ve never been trapped in a stuffy tri-level in the middle of an endless August day in Las Vegas after the magic of global warming. Anyway, you wanted to know, and now you do. We named our son after the air conditioner repairman.

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