Time for another round of flash fiction, courtesy of Charli over at Carrot Ranch. I was busy this morning chewing on the prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about a busy character.
It reminded me of one of the busiest jobs I ever experienced.
The Real Job
The fryer beeps its obnoxious repetition. No one addresses it.
“Keri! Get that!” Phil yells from the back.
“I’m busy,” I mutter while shoving burgers into the warming drawer. At the fryer, hot oil hops out with the cooked fries, hitting my arm. “Ow.” I wipe it on my shirt.
“See, honey? That’s why you have to study hard in school, so you can get a real job. One that won’t burn you.”
It’s a woman in line, talking to a child and pointing at me.
I turn away, hiding my eye roll. Yeah, this isn’t a real job.