There are three things in life one should never do: kiss a real life prince; hitch a ride with a Nebraskan shoe salesman; and attempt to run out a fence in poor visibility, even with a half-drunk friend who owns a GPS navigational device. It was a good deal, he said, the man in the pub had said so and, after the seventh whisky, he believed him so much, he felt the heat of the fifty dollars burning a hole in his pocket.
When the mist began to ebb, the fence looked perfect from the ground up. It was only when one stood back to take in its length that something didn’t look right. This way and that it ran, zigging and zagging from one end of the field to the other.
I looked at my friend, and he was looking intently at his new gadget. Then he looked up.
“According to this, we are standing less than thirty-three fathoms outside Katmandu.”
“You don’t say”, I said.
Written for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers, Challenge #181.
This week’s photo prompt provided by Jodi McKinney. Thank you Jodi.
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