“Oh but they will,” I say as the pictures start to upload, “they already believe, or at least they want to.”
“Balderdash.” Teddy’s moustache quivers as his fangs begin to descend. By his irritated tone and aggressive stance, I would have said I’d hit a nerve, if any of the twenty-sixth President’s original nervous system remained responsible for his continued animation. As it stands, I can only say that he is pissed.
He continues to challenge me, “Who’s going to believe a cockamamie story like this?”. Whooth, Thory. The long canines are a terrifying weapon, but hardly an aid to enunciation.
“Think about it Teddo.” A small jab, just to annoy him. I’m thrilled to see it hit home as he bristles. “Your early illness meant you shouldn’t have lived past fifteen. Then… a miraculous turnaround. Power, strength, you were suddenly the definition of virility. Sold it as ‘hard work’ of course, which stayed just this side of unbelievable. But then you got greedy, didn’t you. Couldn’t stand to leave the limelight, even when the bullet should have taken you… this should attract the right attention. It shouldn’t take long.”
The PC dinged behind me, and I smiled. The pictures had uploaded. We both watched the up-votes roll in as people agreed that the left side photo ‘totallylookedlike’ the right.
“Bah. Cretins looking at the internet don’t scare me.” He started to advance with the fluid, feline grace of his kind. I remained unconcerned, even as he wrenched my neck to the side. “And they certainly won’t protect you.”
“True, but its not the ‘cretins’ who watch that you should be worried about, Ted. Others keep an eye on this site too.” Roosevelt released me and recoiled, red eyes rolling in his piggish face. “You’ve been exposed to the world now, Ted. You know the penalty.”
When it happens, it’s always too quick for me to follow. All I see is an impression of darkness, a noise (a cry perhaps? Surely not from Ted…), perhaps flickering shadows or a breeze as the others come, intent on maintaining their privacy. Of all of this… work, it is this part that scares me.
Then I’m alone again.
I turn to my computer, loading up the next picture. This one, I say to myself, will be a challenge.
Another short paragraph of flash fiction, a ‘bite’ – another response to a the #PopQuizHotShot challenge from Jacopo della Quercia. This one was 26th of August 2014.