Stealing an idea from Lenore Diane’s Thoughts Exactly flash fiction entry of January 12th, I wrote my version. I’m always a day late and several dollars short. This was supposed to be a Thursday challenge, therefore, I’m not officially competing here, just stealing the writing prompt to force me into fiction. The challenge here was to write no less than 100 words, no more than 250 words, and to include the text “sure you are, tough guy.” So here’s my attempt:
We five had a standing date; each Thursday morning we met at the coffee shop at the base of the hill where we drew twigs for who’d buy the coffee, then drew again for who’d be driving the rest of the way to the ski area.
We were aging physicians with private practices and with wives or exes, kids and/or grandkids, and the need for a weekly injection of adrenaline to restore our youthful manliness.
There was already a line of cars heading up the hill for first tracks in eighteen inches of fresh powder. The ski report claimed the road had been freshly plowed and sanded. The sky was cerulean blue, the sun was creeping over the horizon and Jack had drawn the short twig for driving. We loaded his Suburban and headed off, nursing our hot mugs of coffee.
Five mile up the road, the ice on the road reflected the blinding sun. We met the snowplow on a blind curve. Jack swerved instinctively and the car spun a perfect 360, coming to rest with a sickening thud on the back blade of the plow.
After a moment of deadly silence, we began appraising each other. Jack, groaned. “That was a close call. I’m okay, how about you guys?”
“Sure you are, tough guy,” I said, reaching across the bucket seat to remove a shard of glass that protruded from the back of Jack’s neck, unleashing a gush of blood that steamed down the back of his collar.
Rangewriter 