Tag Archives: boyfriend

Barbecue From Hell (A Flash Fiction Story)

“You don’t eat meat? What the hell do you eat then?” asked my host, wearing a shirt that said democrat for the ‘irony’ of it, as he explained it to me upon my arrival.

Here we go, I thought to myself. How do I answer this? All eyes turned to me, all strangers, me in a place where I just DO NOT belong.

“It’s a choice. I choose not to eat it.”

“Why the hell not?” said another, bigger man with a shaved head and a wife-beater.


I don’t even know what to say. I feel ridiculed, scorned, picked on. This is the first anyone has talked to me at this party, and I don’t even have a response that they could possibly understand. And I can’t REALLY stand up for myself, because she works with some of them, most of them in fact, considering this is a company picnic. I hate Fourth of July.

Last year, I went to my friends’ house, a nice couple I’ve known for years. I was single, they were having a small get together, and they were all-foods friendly. They even had a small extra grill for the Vegans who wouldn’t even let their veggie burgers touch something that touched meat. These were my people.

I thought if I stalled long enough, this particular group would suddenly forget what they were talking about and move on to some other topic. After suggesting tying me down and shoving food down my throat, the wanted distraction appeared.

“Can you believe what that <insert the n-word> in the White House did this week? It’s called the White House for a reason.”

Good God. Where in the hell am I? And where did my girlfriend go? I look up the hill where she disappeared with her cubicle-buddy ten minutes ago and try to psychically call her.

“Bullshit. Utter bullshit. Do I really need this Obamacare crap?”

“And you know, I got into a line for it the other day, and I had to wait thirty minutes! Thirty!”

“Me too!”

So they hate it, yet still are already trying to sign up. Nice. I can’t believe this. I could be with that same couple from last year. They invited me. Or my parents’ house. Or sitting alone at home reading a book. Even diarrhea would be better than this. No lie.

I guess I must love my girlfriend for letting all this happen without a peep. Maybe I should tell her. Maybe I should wait until after this travesty in case I change my mind.

“Oh did you see my new bumper sticker? It’s genius, absolute genius.”

Oh no, what now?
“I saw it!” said one of the women as her face lit up. “It says-“

He cuts her off. “You’re in America. Speak American!” They all start laughing.

I wasn’t aware American was a language. I thought about saying so, but figured if I wanted to get out alive, I should probably just keep my liberal mouth shut. They were, after all, already onto me.


Is it?”

“Best sticker ever!”

I actually even think the My Other Car is a Nimbus 2000 Harry Potter sticker is better than that. Even a Twilight sticker is better. I was always a fan of Mr. Yuck as well.

A man in an apron with the body of a naked woman on it (and I don’t mean the bikini-clad woman, I mean naked) came in and said, “The pig’s roasted! Burgers are ready! Come and get it!”

The host started ushering people towards the pavilion. As they all left, I was only one left behind with him.

“Hey, buddy,” he said to me. “Want some pig, or a burger?”



I stopped at the produce place on my way to Frank’s house to get him some apples, and they had just unloaded a truck of potted carnations. The whole little market smelled of the fresh flowers, and as I looked around, touching them, picking them up to smell them, I realized he didn’t have a single potted plant in his little apartment. I picked up a red one and paid for it at the table by the door.

When I walked into Frank’s place the first thing I did, as usual , was to kiss him, give him a hug, and hand him the potted plant.

“Um… thanks! So… does this need like, water or something?”

I smiled. “Of course it does, silly.”

“Do I feed it?”

I assumed this was a joke. “Just water and sunlight.” At that I walked over to the window and pulled up his blinds, letting sun into the room for quite possibly the first time ever. I turned and realized how dusty and messy it was. He placed the pot on his coffee table after pushing some stuff around to make room.

When I got to his place a week later, I opened the door to find a sunny, cleaner apartment. I looked around, impressed.

“Frank? Have you been cleaning?”

He popped his head out of the kitchen. “Yeah… I kinda noticed how dirty it was in here when you made it all bright. So yeah… started cleaning. I’m making you some lunch! Are you hungry?”

I was pleasantly surprised. “Sure! What are you making?”

“Well… I’m chopping some veggies, and I have hummus dip. Sit down, relax—I’ll be there in a minute!”

I sat down and noticed how empty the table looked, everything gone except for the carnation, which was wilting.

“Have you been watering this?”

“Um… yeah. Not enough I guess?” he said, entering the room with a plate covered in chopped cucumbers, carrots and celery, some crackers, and a container of hummus.

“These things need more water, and probably more sunlight, too. Maybe you should move it into the window sometimes. Wow, this looks great!” I said, digging in.

A few days later I returned yet again to Frank’s place, eager to see if he’d made more changes. I never really minded the mess, but now I felt a lot better about hanging out there. It was actually a really nice place. Today I agreed to help him paint his bedroom, where we also opened the blinds to discover the dreary off-white color of the walls, marked up from years of abuse from past tenants. He had nice brighter blue picked out, and already had the furniture moved out by the time I got there.

“You wore old clothes, right?” he asked with a sound of excitement in his voice.

“Yup!” I called as I put my coat on a newly bought coat rack. “Love this rack. Where’d you get it?”

“I love your rack!” he yelled back, then laughed. “Just kidding, I actually found that one in the trash, sanded it down and repainted it. Nice, huh?” I had to agree. That’s when I saw the potted plant I bought him. It looked refreshed, rejuvenated; alive and well.

I walked into his room, and he had one whole wall already done. “Wow, looks good!” I said. “So does the plant! I guess you figured out the right amount of water and sunlight?”

“I Googled it,” he responded. “Grab a brush and let’s start the edging!” he said with a wink and a smile.

It was a few days later, the paint was dry, and we were in bed cuddling when my stomach growled.

“Do you have any food?”

“Of course, this is the new me!” he said. “There’s some of that hummus… but that’s a bit old. Go ahead and look!”

As I passed through the living room I grabbed the carnation and put it in the window on my way to the kitchen. I looked through what was left of the vegetables, threw out the bad ones, and cut up the last good carrot and one of the cucumbers. As I passed the plant again, I noticed the flower looked a bit lighter.

“Hey hun,” I asked as I returned to bed. “What’s with the carnation? It looks a bit lighter….”

“Oh that… yeah. I left it in the window too long, I think. It faded.”

“I didn’t know that could happen!”

“Apparently, it can. I was surprised too. I thought they like, lived off of the sun.”

I nodded and we dug in.

A few days later and the carnation was dying again. “Did you forget to water it again?” I asked him as he sat down with a bowl of popcorn. He nodded. “Come on! How hard is it to water it?”

I brought it into the kitchen, ran some water over it, touched the soil, and left it in the sink. “I’ll put it on the sill in a bit when the water stops draining out.”

A few days later, the carnation was completely healthy again. “Wow, looks like that water did the trick! It even looks a bit bigger!”

He looked up from the book he was reading. “Huh?”

“The plant, it’s back again! This carnation seemingly dies and comes back again constantly! It’s a fighter!”

“Actually, I’ve taken to calling it a reincarnation,” he said with a sly smile.

I was on my way to Frank’s a few days later, yet again, but this time stopped for some fruit since he was back on his empty fridge kick. When I walked in I saw him standing in the line with a brand new potted carnation, red with white flecks. He turned and spotted me, a look of guilt on his face, as I approached.

“Um… they were out of red.”

So much for the reincarnation.