Ficlets

The wooden slats of the dock groaned and creeked under my boots as I walked toward the bathroom, as if to say: “you sir, are fat. Quite fat indeed, sir. You are so fat in fact, that I think I’m going to give out on your way back, and drop you into the bloody ocean.”

Everybody’s a comedian.

To call it a “bathroom” was a bit of a stretch. It was more like a covered section of the dock with a canvas flap pulled down for privacy while you did your business in a steel bucket, tossing it out over the side when you were done.

I nearly caught myself in my zipper when Laressa burst in as I was finishing up.

“What the hell girl?” I shouted, being careful not to turn around until the old soldier was back in his bunk.

“Jed, look!” She said, holding something small and square in her outstretched hand.

I took the card from her and stepped out through the flap to get a better look at it in the light.

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah.” she said. “Found it in one of the purses.”

It was a Federal Relief Chip.