A Small, Inconsequential Work of Fiction

“I know what you did last summer.”

“I know, Ted. I’m the one that sent you the postcard, remember?”

“I’m not talking about the trip you took to Vancouver. I’m talking about you and Jenny.”

“Jenny?”

“Don’t play dumb, Dave. I guess you thought I’d never find out about it, but I know you had your way with her while I was at the manager training course at Hamburger University.”

“I just went over there to look in on her and make sure everything was fine. You asked me to keep an eye on things while you were gone. I don’t know what you’re talking about, ‘Had your way with her.’ What is that supposed to mean?”

“You took her out, got her all warmed up and just kept pumping her–“

“What are you–“

“I found your student ID under the seat, Dave. Now the plugs are fouled and I’m going to have to tune her up.”

“All right, I took your car out for a drive while you were gone. I didn’t think it was a big deal”

“Not a big deal? This is a numbers-matching 1969 Camaro Z28. She’s a finely-tuned work of art. I can’t believe you’d betray my trust like that.”

“I had sex with your girlfriend while you were away too.”

“Don’t try to change the subject.”

“In the Camaro.”

“You son of a bitch!”

This was just a small exercise, starting with the given line, "I know what you did last summer," and working from there. The aim was to tell the story entirely through dialogue and in less than 250 words. I came across it buried in a forgotten corner of my hard drive and got a smile from it.

Image: "Chevrolet Camaro Z 28" by DeusXFlorida

Used under Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic (CC BY 2.0)