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Well Look at Who’s Here Now!

Today my guest blogger is Linda Bolton, who is going to lay a bit of flash fiction upon us.  Why?  Because we can all use a little flashing, right?

Take it away, Linda!



Beatrice’s head ached. She pried open one eye and closed it quickly. The light was blinding. Using her hand to shield her eyes, she slowly opened both lids. The fluorescent bulbs over head definitely worked. Even the hum from them ached her ears.

“Ugh, what happened?”, Beatrice thought to herself as she looked around. “Where am I?”

It looked like Beatrice’s office. It was her office! What was she doing there? It was coming back to her through the hammering in her brain. The office party for Megan was last night after work. Paula and Cathy had tequila icing in the freezer in the break room. Tiffany said she hired a stripper. Megan was getting married. Oh, Beatrice remembered.

She remembered tequila shots, the fireman who came in with a very long hose, and there was a thong somewhere in the evening too. Beatrice’s boss was a very indulging guy and loved that the women all got along. He had no problem letting them have their little party in the office as long as they cleaned up. Beatrice remembered something about confetti shred. She looked past her office and saw shredded paper everywhere.

Once she felt strong enough to stand, Beatrice walked to her doorway. The office was a wreck. Where were the other gals? She wandered through the office. She found Megan passed out over her desk, hugging a thong. She knew she saw a thong last night. She found Paula asleep on the restroom floor where she had, evidently, been the porcelain bus driver. Tiffany was under the desk in reception, drool running out the corner of her mouth. And Cathy was dozing on the break room table with shredded paper all over her. Beatrice got them all up, made some coffee and got everyone cleaning.

On Monday morning Beatrice’s boss called her into his office.

“Beatrice, I’m glad you gals had a great time Friday night here at the office but I have one complaint,” Mr Martin had a frown on his face as he spun his lap top around to face her.

Beatrice gulped, afraid of what was coming.

“Never change my screensaver again!”



Linda Bolton is an aspiring contemporary romance writer.  She is looking for a publisher for her first book, Perfect.  While working on a future projects Linda can be found:

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