Fast Fiction Challenge 2006: The Basement of Doom
Title: The Basement of Doom
Word: moron
Challenger: josepheenie
Length: 200 words exactly The door opened with a creak, and a widening shaft of light illuminated the dank room.
The woman looked around the almost empty room, caught a brief whiff of odour and grimaced. From out of her bag, she pulled a small can and sprayed it twice, then tentatively sniffed again, this time satisfied with the pervading smell.
She heard a noise behind her and turned to see a heavyset man walking down the stairs.
As he got closer, he smelled the pleasant scent of citrus, and smiled at her. “Great minds think alike,” he said in heavily accented English, lifting his hand to show the air freshener. “And morons seldom differ,” the woman replied, her voice hoarse with the unfamiliar language, but equally friendly.
“Shall we?” the woman gestured towards the room.
The arms dealer followed the notorious war criminal into the room towards the solid chairs where they sat.. and talked.
And when they had finished talking, they both left, having completed their business, knowing only the approximate numbers that would die as a result of the conversation and the amount of money involved.
The moron and the genius met once a month. It was arguable which was which.
© Lee Barnett, 2007
Word: moron
Challenger: josepheenie
Length: 200 words exactly The door opened with a creak, and a widening shaft of light illuminated the dank room.
The woman looked around the almost empty room, caught a brief whiff of odour and grimaced. From out of her bag, she pulled a small can and sprayed it twice, then tentatively sniffed again, this time satisfied with the pervading smell.
She heard a noise behind her and turned to see a heavyset man walking down the stairs.
As he got closer, he smelled the pleasant scent of citrus, and smiled at her. “Great minds think alike,” he said in heavily accented English, lifting his hand to show the air freshener. “And morons seldom differ,” the woman replied, her voice hoarse with the unfamiliar language, but equally friendly.
“Shall we?” the woman gestured towards the room.
The arms dealer followed the notorious war criminal into the room towards the solid chairs where they sat.. and talked.
And when they had finished talking, they both left, having completed their business, knowing only the approximate numbers that would die as a result of the conversation and the amount of money involved.
The moron and the genius met once a month. It was arguable which was which.
© Lee Barnett, 2007