Roadside Vendor, by Jaimie Engle
I drove three counties to try one. Greasy meat cooking from the sidewalk stand, pumped out like an aphrodisiac. I ordered a double.
“Too late. Sold out.”
I stood planted, not going anywhere.
The vendor smiled. “Follow me. I make you special.”
He led me to an alley, a side door, a blackout. I came to when my foot hit the grinder; mechanical teeth munching, making me minced meat. The vendor watched.
“I make you special,” he repeated.
Wish I’d told someone where I went. But, they’ll never find me now. Unless they drive three counties.
And order a double.
Jaimie Engle has managed a hip-hop band, sold vitamins over the phone, modeled for Reef Brazil, and danced at the halftime show of the Aloha Bowl. If she were stuck on a deserted island, she would still write in the sand, even though high tide would wash it away. She has published numerous short stories, both online and in print, with her first novel contracted for release in December of 2013. Visit her at www.jaimiengle.com.