Ficlets

Crossing Ficlets #5: Prophesy My Chitlins

Glad to be free of his ethereal and oft lusty guide, Lanceus found himself in an unfamiliar land, surrounded by strange sights and smells. He was seated at a chaos table, a discord banquet.
“Ma,” a young man bellowed, “Bubba’s hoggin the okra!”
“Hush Pistol, he needs his strength for baseball playin.”
“Y’all keep it down; I’m trying to watch the game,” the eldest declared.
“Sweet, pass me the chitlins!” The large one, he that was hogging the okra, was addressing Lanceus, calling him Sweet. He feared for a moment he was in a woman’s body but a quick look down revealed a bare, male chest under some sort of blue pants-like garment. “Ma,” the okra hogger continued, “Sweet’s got that look again, like he ain’t here no more.”
“No, no, it is quite alright fair friends, for I am here and quite well,” Lanceus attempted to allay their worry. Silence usurped the din. All eyes were upon Lanceus, this Sweet he had possessed.
“Boy,” said the father sternly, “Don’t you ever talk like a damn Yankee in this house again.”

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