Washed Up (Microfiction Monday #68)

Gnarly, dude!”


“At last, your pal Susan‘s got a story prompt that features us!

“Um, dude …”

“In costume, no less! I always wanted to dress up like an old-time fisherman, wit’ the boots an’ the oilskins an’ the funny hats, goin’ after the mackerel …”

“So you could look like you smell, dude?”

Hey!! … What is that thing in the picture, anyway?”

“Man, that figures. It’s a bar of soap, dude. Y’wash yer body with it.”

“Huh? I thought body wash came in a bottle. I can see beatin’ on somebody wit’ a bar, or I can see drinkin’ a brewski at a bar, but washin’?

“It’s old-timey, dude. Like the guys in the slickers. Not to mention the sinkin’ sailin’ ship in the distance. The world before cell phones.”

No way!

“Way. An’ while you’re puzzlin’ that out, I’m doin’ the story Susan wants.”

“Y’see, Amos, they saved something.”
“Ayup, Elmer. Still, never sail with landlubbers. Not even their soap will float.”

“Is that what the ring thingy is?”

“Yeah. Prehistoric ‘flotation device’, as the airlines call your seat cushion.”

“Weird. But I guess that fits the moral.”

“There’s a moral?”

“‘Course, dude. ‘If yer gonna get washed up, be sure you come away clean.'”


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