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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2211324
Rated: E · Fiction · Contest Entry · #2211324
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WC 187

“There’s little chance of you finding a job in this town.”

“I find that offensive, you know.”

“I’m just saying, that’s all.”

“What are you basing that on?”

“History. When was the last time you went to work for more than a day at a time?”

“I’ll point your attention to the country of Venezuela, my friend. I spend a lot of time there. In fact, I may decide soon to make a permanent move there. The state of Zulia is where I stay a few months every year.”

“Venezuela? Seems a long way off. You don’t have a chance there. You don’t speak the language.”

“I speak all languages. I’m multi-lingual. I’ll be fine.”

“Well, I can’t say I’ll miss you.”

“No offense taken.”

Lightning took its 53,540 degrees Fahrenheit and sent it into the air with a flourish.

“And that is how lightning leaves the room.”

I was left with a scorched hole in the middle of my house. Good luck explaining this to my insurance agent. But on the plus side, once the damage is fixed, no more lightning strikes to worry about.


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