Friday, 25 January 2013

Flash Fiction: The Princess, The Cop, and The Cowboy

"Let's go, princess," said the cop. He hooked his hairy hand round her thin upper arm and tugged, almost pulling her off her feet. “This way.”

Nah… I don’t wanna,” slurred the princess, her plastic gold crown tipping jauntily on her head, covering one eye. Since the policeman had immobilised one hand and the other was gripping a flute of champagne, she left the crown where it was, hoping it wouldn’t slip much further down and blind her completely.

The policeman’s face fell. “Oh,” he said, shocked. “But I thought, maybe, we could dance?” He nodded in the direction of the dance floor which was covered in swaying couples enjoying the fancy dress party. The cop flexed his considerable muscles. “What d’you say?”

The princess took a swig of her drink and hiccoughed. She started to shake her head, thought better of it, and instead pulled her arm away with a quick tug that surprised the cop. It surprised him so much that he let go and the princess, equally stunned, skipped backwards, tripping over the rug as she went, landing with a bump, the crown now around her neck and her drink all over the floor. The policeman shook his head, sighed and walked away, leaving the princess struggling to get off the tiles.

A cowboy who had been watching this farce unfold with interest, jogged over to the fallen woman and helped her to her unsteady feet. “You okay, ma’am?” he drawled, terrible fake western accent firmly in place. “Uh,” mumbled the princess, trying to regain her balance despite the amount of alcohol she had consumed. “Yes?” she asked rather than stated.

The cowboy grinned. “Well,” he said, looking around him at the carnage, noticing the large policeman making his way towards them with a sour look on his face and beginning to believe it was time to make tracks, “My horse is outside and ready to ride. What d’you say?” He winked as the cop’s shadow fell on him, then turned to face the other man. “Look, buddy,” he said, poking his finger into the larger man’s chest. “This little lady don’t want no trouble, okay? So skedaddle!”

The policeman rolled his eyes. “You like him?” he asked the princess.

She shrugged. “He’s okay. A bit… hero-y. Annoying, really.”

Wanna go home with me?” asked the cop, lifting the cowboy out of the way.

“Better not,” the princess said. She pointed to the cowboy; “I’m married to him.”

©Lisamarie Lamb 2013 

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