Ficlets

Propaganda Films With Chuck And Theodore

Frankly, I’m intimidated by this scene. You’d think hurtling through a hole in time and seeing a newspaper full of WWII headlines on arrival would be jaw-dropping.

But in just six weeks, I’ve adjusted and even landed this writing job. Which brings me to my current predicament.

I’m on the couch, watching Charles sit at an artist’s table, ferociously twiddling a pen while Ted – I’m calling him “Ted” – anxiously paces.

“Alright,” Ted says, “Snafu is on a date with a hot broad, talking about his orders, and her knockers are really a telephone connected to a… a little Nazi with headphones hiding in a closet?”

“Didn’t we do that one?” Charles says, bored. He grabs a new sheet of paper and scratches it with his pen. Seconds later, he shows me the result: Ted pacing under an anvil hanging from a rope. Holding the other end of the rope is a wolfish beast: the eyes are small and his snout short, but he already has bow legs and slumping shoulders.

Charles grins, balls it up and tosses it in the trash.

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