Keeping Up

Over at terribleminds, Chuck Wendig has issued a flash fiction challenge in which takers click on a random sentence generator. That sentence then becomes the first or last sentence in your story of 1000 words or less. The sentences are mostly nonsensical, and therein lies the fun. I admit to reclicking several times, but I ultimately went with the sentence I got on my first click. Enjoy!

Keeping Up

“An officer doubts the pinched cyclist within an interference?”

“No, Gran!”

“And off is her towels the benched psycho with Ann enter fear us? It still doesn’t make sense.” Winnie laughed. “You need to slow down on the booze, honey.

“Put your hearing aid in, Gran!”

Winnie took a long swig of her sangria and fished around in the pocket of her shorts. “Let me put my hearing aid in.”

“Why do you keep it in your pocket?”

Winnie raised an eyebrow. ”Why do I keep saying fuck it?” She shrugged. “Most conversation is inane, dear. If someone comes around who has something interesting to say, I have my hearing aid right here.”

She patted her pocket, and then popped the tiny piece of plastic into her right ear.

“Now what were you saying about Ann and her benched psycho?”

“Nothing! Benched psycho? Seriously, Gran. I said, ‘An awful dubstep inched the vocalist with the audience.’”

“Dubstep inched the vocalist? A pinched cyclist makes more sense than that.”

A longsuffering sigh issued from her granddaughter. She pulled out her iPod “Dubstep is a genre of music. Listen.”

After 30 seconds, Winnie couldn’t take anymore. “Music! It sounds like an air horn got tangled up with a chainsaw.” She popped the hearing aid out of her right ear and slid it back into her pocket. “This is why I keep saying fuck it.”

“This is the latest thing. Keeping up will keep you young, Gran.”

“You’re drinking sangria next to a pool in Florida. Quit nattering and enjoy it.”

“Right. About that…” Winnie watched her granddaughter adjust her bikini top and look around. “I really do appreciate you letting me stay with you, but the men here are a bit…old.”

“Oh, these old coots are bold because you’re pretty. They say outrageous things to me too. We have good genes, dear.”

The girl laughed and choked on her sangria. “So let’s take our good genes and go dancing.”

“Take off our jeans? I still got it, and I still flaunt it, but stripping? I don’t think so.”

“You have way too much class for that, Gran, but that’s not what I said.”

Winnie stood up and looked at her behind. “You think so? I still do my yoga every day and I avoid fried foods.” She wiggled her butt. “You’re probably right. I do have some junk in the trunk.”

“Too much CLASS, Gran!”

“Well you don’t have to shout it. Besides, glass houses and all, your cute little bubble will turn into a balloon if you keep eating all those carbs.”

Her granddaughter fell back into the chaise with a sigh. “You look great, Gran. Put a pole in the community room. I’m sure you’d be the belle of the ball.”

“Thank you, dear. I’ve always been a belle with balls.”

“Now that is the damn truth.”

Winnie smiled enigmatically, drained her glass, and then closed her eyes and relaxed in her own chaise. Fifteen minutes later, a cool hand touched her thigh.

“I should report you for sexual harassment.”

“Ah, but then you would be forced to behave yourself as well,” a teasing voice answered.

Winnie opened her eyes and sat up. The change in position moved the hand farther up her thigh.

“My granddaughter thinks I should take up pole dancing in the community room.”

“What a fine idea! I shall have the pole installed at once!”

Said granddaughter was staring with her mouth hanging open. Winnie laughed uproariously.

“Rodrigo, this is my granddaughter. She’s visiting from up north, and she thinks the men around here are too bold.” She flicked her eyes toward the hand on her thigh, but made no attempt to move it. “She might have a point.”

Rodrigo ran his thumb under the hem of Winnie’s shorts and squeezed, then stood and offered the same hand to her granddaughter. When she stuck her hand out, he bowed and brushed his lips across it.

“Rodrigo Izaguirre at your service. I see beauty runs true in your family.”

“Good genes,” the girl stammered.

“And bullshit runs true in yours, eh Rodrigo?”

“Indeed, but you are the only beautiful lady who enjoys saying so.”

            “Oh please, I’m not the only one who enjoys the show. I’m just the only one around here who will admit it.”

Her granddaughter tapped her ear pointedly.

“Do you have water in your ear, hon? You should wear ear plugs when you swim.

The girl rolled her eyes. “Um…is Rodrigo your...um…”

“My what, dear?”

Rodrigo chuckled, “I am her dance partner.”

“Don’t get your panties in a wad. He’s my dance partner. Dance instructor, actually.”

“What? Are you learning the tango or something?”

“Tango or samba? Both. We’ve been tangoing for months.” She grinned at Rodrigo who was still chuckling. “I’m learning the samba now.”

“Yes, and I must steal your abuela for an hour.”

“As long as you give her back.” The girl looked faintly alarmed.

Rodrigo waved his hand in dismissal. “I am but a dancer for hire.”

“You’re always on fire. Cool your jets in front of my granddaughter.”

“She doesn’t have her hearing aid,” the girl murmured.

“I wouldn’t dream of taking advantage.” He turned to Winnie. “Shall we?”

Winnie smiled girlishly and took his arm. With her other hand, she smoothed her hair behind her ear, revealing the small piece of plastic tucked snugly inside.

She winked at her granddaughter. “Let me finish with Rodrigo, and then I would love to go dancing later. You can show me the latest thing. Like you said, keeping up keeps you young.”