Here’s your Saturday Flash Fiction. Enjoy!
Chew Toy
“Oh, look at her. Talk about a walking fashion disaster!”
Nona had been doing her best to ignore the women sitting at the next table and concentrate on reading her book and enjoying her coffee, but this comment was made with such giggling disdain, Nona couldn’t help but look up to see the object of attention.
It was a young woman, close to the same age of the ones at the next table. She wore nice clothes, but self-consciously, like she knew that a good presentation was important, but was making an effort because it was expected, even though she’d rather spend the time and attention elsewhere. Her outfit also didn’t really have a put-together coherence, or suit her face and figure very well. The only thing that seemed to truly suit her and make her comfortable was the not-very-fashionable bag, heavy with books, slung over her shoulder.
“Look at those shoes. Goodwill rejects.”
“And that bag. Dork city!”
“And who did her hair? A blind homeless man?”
Nona shifted with discomfort that was rapidly growing into anger and disgust as the woman’s catty dissection turned ever more judgmental and insulting.
Fortunately, the young woman who was their target collected her coffee and left the shop, presumably to find a quieter place to spend time with her books and coffee. Deprived of their victim, the conversation at the next table returned to celebrity and personal gossip. Finally, Nona couldn’t take it any more, and left the shop.
But she also couldn’t just head home. She stopped in an alleyway just down the street from the coffeeshop, ducked in behind a dumpster and quickly stripped off her clothes. She concentrated, and slipped into her fox form.
Silently, she padded to the entrance to the alley, and hid in the shadows where she could see the front door of the coffee place. She didn’t have to wait long for one of the two women to had sat beside her to emerge, her designer bag dangling from her hand.
Perfect.
Nona shot forward, weaving with agile grace through pedestrian legs, ignoring the startled yelps of passersby to snatch the bag from the woman’s hand with powerful jaws. She grinned to herself at the horrified shriek behind her as she continued up the sidewalk at a run, bag dangling from her teeth.
It tasted terrible. It was genuine leather, as advertised, but the preservatives and dyes they used were gross.
The woman was pursuing as fast as she could manage in high heels; some distance behind and falling back fast. So Nona stopped to give the bag some good chewing. She picked it up and ran a short distance further to give herself some more time, chewed some more, then abandoned the bag to its fate.
The woman wouldn’t know why Nona did this, and probably wouldn’t change, even if she did. But it made Nona feel better.