Thank you, Bill Tope, for publishing “At the Corner of Perhaps and Never” by Nolcha Fox and me on Topiary Stories today.
Nolcha and I co-wrote a poetry book together (Too Much Fun To Be Legal), and collaborating on flash fiction is just as fun.
My text is italicized, and Nolcha’s is not.
At the Corner of Perhaps and Never
by Barbara Leonhard and Nolcha Fox
Maggie, her feet up on the balcony railing, sipped from the wineglass in her right hand, then took a drag from the cigarette in her left hand. She contemplated the slate-grey clouds, sagging with rain.
“Why did he leave?” she wondered. “How did it come to THIS?” She walked inside and scanned the living room. The hutches were bare. All their wedding dishes, the silver trays and crystal goblets, and – oh, no! The collection of Simpson dolls she and Vic purchased from Burger King back when times were happier. He stole them, too! She liked to think the Simpson baby, Maggie, was named after her. And where was Sasha, their Maine coon? Did Vic take her, too?
On her way to the kitchen to refill her wine glass, she suddenly stopped next to his recliner. She stooped and peered closer at a burned area and a pile of ashes on the seat.
He was always such a pig, she thought. That was one thing she wouldn’t miss. She never should have married him. Her mother was right. Again.
Maggie noticed a sliver of something gleaming in the pile of ashes and pulled it out. It was his glasses. Why would he take everything and leave his glasses behind? He couldn’t see a thing without them.
Maybe it was spontaneous human combustion.
Now what? Should she call the police? Or call one of those paranormal investigation groups?
The decision wasn’t easy. She smoked a few more cigarettes, trying to decide. The police may accuse her of murder. Or commit her for suggesting Vic had burned to ash while watching Wheel of Fortune. A paranormal group might -–
Suddenly, a loud pop echoed in the bathroom. “What the — !? Gunfire?” She put out the cigarette and gingerly approached the bathroom. The bathroom door suddenly flung open, revealing a middle-aged man in a spacesuit puffing on a Cuban cigar.
“VIC?! Where have you been?”
“Shhhh! They’re coming.”
“Why is the bathtub filled with ice? And beer?”
Vic pulled Maggie into the bathroom and shut the door.
“Lower your voice, Maggot! They’ll find us.”
Maggie lowered her voice, mostly. “Vic, what happened to our stuff? And what happened to your recliner?”
“I’m telling you, Maggot, it was them! Little green men! They appeared out of nowhere! They pointed some sort of gun at me, but I was too fast for them. The popcorn bowl wasn’t so lucky. But our stuff? I don’t know what happened. I ducked into the bathroom.”
“Where did you get the spacesuit?”
Vic grinned. “I bought it on Amazon. Do you like it?”
Maggie didn’t know whether to laugh at Vic’s ridiculous new outfit or cry over his tale of the little green men.
Vic handed her a cold beer. “Let’s go.” Maggie followed him as he went from room to room, checking behind the doors, inside the closets and cupboards, and under the beds and furniture. In the garage, they found puddles of melted silver and glass.
“Where’s the truck?!” Vic screamed.
“Heck if I know!” Maggie said. “I never wanted that ugly Tesla truck.”
“The garage was locked, so where did it go?” Vic looked in the trash can.
A moaning honk led them to the backyard. Descending from the sky was the Tesla truck. It made a hard landing on top of the radishes and green onions in the garden.
Emerging from the scuffed and burnt Tesla were Homer, Maude, Bart, Lisa, and Maggie, who walked stiffly toward the startled couple. Their eyes were a soulless marble-black. Their skin was sallow green. Sasha was a furry stole around Maude’s neck.
“Take us to Burger King,” said Homer.
© Nolcha Fox and Barbara Leonhard
If you would like to read our poetry collaborations, you can find this book on Amazon. The Kindle book is $3.99 (free to read on Kindle Unlimited), and the paperback is $9.99.
Extraordinary Sunshine Weaver 
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