'Getaway' by Bridget Arregger

The car door is opening.
‘That was quick dear,’ I say, ‘I wasn’t expecting you back so soon. Was the bank completely empty?’
Actually that can’t be right. I am not expecting her at all. I have left my wife. It must be Harry getting into the driver’s seat. I can’t look up. I am busy trying to do up my fly. My wife, or was it Harry, conveniently left me an empty milk bottle knowing I would not last. Well, not a milk bottle, they don’t seem to make them anymore. One of those plastic things with a handle. A quart. It doesn’t say it’s a quart, they don’t make those anymore either. But I know it’s a quart. I don’t need such a big bottle but my wife says it’s easier for me to hold than the pint ones. I expect she’s right. I don’t recognise the trouser legs next to me. Harry was wearing brown cords. These are black and shiny. Peter? Emily? Emily wears black shiny clothes.
‘You must be Emily,’ I start to say. But it’s a man.
He is holding a big bag and trying to squeeze it down on the floor between his legs. I try to take it from him, plenty of room on my side.
‘Gerroff,’ he growls. He has managed to stash the bag. He is holding out his hand to me. I give him the milk bottle even though I haven’t had time to put the lid on yet.
The man is giving me back the bottle of pee. I take it and put the lid on. He is still holding out his hand. He is pointing to the ignition key slot.
‘Who are you?’ I ask.
‘Never you mind,’ he says. ‘Gimme the keys.’
Harry left me the keys, I think, so I look in my trouser cuff. Ah yes.
‘Where are we going?’ I say.
‘Never you mind,’ he says. A man of few words. I like that. A refreshing change.
We are going very fast. My wife doesn’t drive that fast. Even Harry doesn’t drive that fast.
‘Are we going for a drive in the country?’ I ask the man.
‘I need a pee,’ I say. I don’t really but I don’t like him driving so fast. I start to undo my fly. We screech to a halt.
‘Get out,’ he says.
‘I can’t,’ I say. It’s true. Harry had buckled me in with a padlock on the catch and put a special child lock thing on the front seat door. He doesn’t want me to have an accident. He’s a kind lad, Harry. Our first son, I think. Or is he a grandson?
The man is trying to undo my seat belt. He is using some very bad language. My wife would have a fit if she could hear him. I can hear police sirens. I wonder what they want.

FlashFlood is brought to you by National Flash-Fiction Day UK, happening this year on 27th June 2015. In the build up to the day we have now launched our Micro-Fiction Competition (stories up to 100 words) and also our annual Anthology (stories up to 500 words).  So if you have enjoyed FlashFlood, why not send us your stories? More information about these and the Day itself available at nationalflashfictionday.co.uk.


  1. Beautiful absurdist piece that constantly keeps the reader guessing. Great stuff, Bridget.

    Also I am probably not a robot.


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