Perks of the Job
While shopping at a farmer’s market, a pair of friends get roped into a fire department’s quest to quell the rage of an everlasting fire.
Flash fiction by Jordan Bianchi
Submission for NYC Midnight’s 2022 Flash Fiction Challenge.
“Doug, how could you!” Wallie exclaimed. “My special strawberries!”
“Didn’t know you wanted ‘em,” said Doug. “They weren’t even that good.”
“I needed them for my newest recipe: salmon with pickled strawberries.”
“That’s rancid.”
“Go get your car. If we leave now we can beat the rush to get more.”
“Larry’s has a rush?”
“We’re not going to Larry’s Cheap Treats.”
“Why not?”
“His fruit rots on the shelves. Those were from the farmer’s market. You can taste the sun in them.”
“I couldn’t.”
The best friends sped across town, even crossed county lines, all to find out that the line for “Berry Good Times” had already wrapped around the entire farmer’s market.
Suddenly, everyone began to cheer. Wallie and Doug turned and saw two firefighters, one with a waxed mustache, the other had a golden tooth.
Waxed Stache admired Wallie’s “We Didn’t Start the Fire” concert t-shirt.
“Wow! Love to see citizens promoting fire safety!”
“That’s not what it means–”
“Don’t sell yourself short! Take care of your country and she’ll treat you well!”
The firefighters went to the front of the line.
“Hey!” Wallie shouted. “They’re cutting ahead of us!”
“We can’t waste time in lines,” said Golden Tooth. “We have lives to save!”
‘That’s it!” Fuming, Wallie stormed past everyone. “My salmon’s gonna go bad if we don’t hurry back.”
“Dude, wait!”
“We’re firefighters, too. Got a fire to catch,” said Wallie to the old lady at the counter.
“Oh! What would you gentlemen like?”
“Three bushels of organic, non-GMO, free-trade, ruby red strawberries, please,” said Wallie. “Um, for the troops.”
“We didn’t know you were fellow firefighters!” exclaimed the firefighters. “Haven’t seen you down at HQ.”
“Crap.” Wallie didn’t realize they were still there. “We’re, uh, from out of town.”
“Incredible! You must see our station!”
“Ah,” said Doug.
“Really, that’s okay…” said Wallie.
“It wouldn’t be polite to deny our comrades a proper tour!” said Golden Tooth.
“We would, but we have a fire to get to.”
“Nonsense! There aren’t any fires out now,” said Waxed Stache. “We would know!”
The firefighters roared with laughter. They flexed their savior biceps and pretended to axe down a door. Doug glared at Wallie, who was awkwardly rearranging the fruit.
“C’mon! You’ll love my Dalmatian!” said Golden Tooth.
“Great pooch,” said Waxed Stache. “What a beaut.”
“Um, all right…” said Wallie.
The Dalmatian threw up on Wallie’s shirt as they drove to the fire station.
“He’s thinking of a career shift,” said Waxed Stache.
“How ‘bout you shift this puke off my T,” said Wallie.
His shirt now read Wet Tart.
“Bet you wouldn’t mind rotten strawberries now, hm?”
“Don’t belittle the berries,” said Wallie. “Berries know best.”
“Pop those berries in our fridge,” said Golden Tooth. “Write your name on it or the guys’ll nibble.”
Beyond the refrigerator were metal poles that went into the ground.
“Cooooool,” said Doug and Wallie.
“Firm grip, boys,” said Golden Tooth.
The bejeweled firefighter shouted “Weeeeeee” as he slid down the pole for a lot longer than Wallie and Doug expected. Confused, they looked down.
The poles descended deep into the earth.
“After you,” said Waxed Stache. “You do this all the time, don’t you?”
Doug and Wallie nodded, gulped, took up a pole and screamed.
When the poles met earth, they saw a monstrous conflagration.
“What is that?” asked Wallie.
“Why that’s our fire, of course! The one we’re stationed around!”
“Oh right.”
“Silly Wallie,” said Doug.
Scientists in lab coats studied the wild flames. Firefighters punched the air like boxers.
“This fire’s a demon that we can’t slay. Our bravest fighters seek retribution. Many were lost to the flames,” said Waxed Stache.
“Today the scientists have decided to send us into the flames to snuff the beast from the inside out,” said Golden Tooth.
“What?!”
“If not it’ll kill us all.”
“Then what’re your berries for?” asked Wallie.
“The Death Cocktail, just in case,” said Golden Tooth. “We hear it has bite to it. This should make it better.”
“Good thinking,” said Wallie.
“We are masters of our own fate,” said Waxed Stache.
The firefighters strapped oxygen tanks to their backs and lifted sharpened axes.
“That’s punk, man,” said Doug.
“Thanks.”
“I should’ve never lied at the Farmer’s Market,” said Wallie.
An idea popped into his head. They might not have started this fire, but they could try to fight it.
“Wait!” said Wallie. “I can fix this!!
“Yeah, I’m sure a nice soufflé will solve this,” said Doug.
“No, for real!”
“This fire has waged war against us for too long,” said Golden Tooth. “We will end this now.”
“There’s a better way!”
“Hear the man out, Richard,” Waxed Stache said to Golden Tooth. “What do you need?”
Wallie whipped out his chef’s hat.
“We’re gonna need a grocery cart.”
Doug’s eyes lit up.
The firefighters blared the fire truck's horn and slammed the gas. Wallie held a bag for the Dalmatian.
“No, left of the Farmer’s Market!” yelled Doug.
“Left!?” Waxed Stache and Golden Tooth shouted back.
“We’re crossing county lines.”
The axe men bravely drove out of their jurisdiction and into Wallie and Doug’s neck of the woods.
“Stop! We’re here!” said Doug.
The team scoured Larry’s Cheap Treats for ingredients: Ghost peppers. Chiles. Tears of a yak. Buffalo wing sauce. Scorpion venom. Rotten fruit. Wallie mixed them together and a volcanic steam lifted from the bowl. Sparks erupted. An intern fainted.
“Stay back!” said Doug. “He knows what he’s doing!”
Wallie loaded a turkey baster with the orange liquid.
“Time to fight fire with fire.”
The demon flames raged.
“It knows we’re coming!” screamed Golden Tooth.
The fire laughed and lashed at him. Wallie charged. With a firm pump, he jetted a fatal serving of sauce into the heart of the demonic beast.
The flames were extinguished.
“Hooray!”
Doug and the firefighters carried him on their shoulders and cheered his name. He may not have had his brunch, but he saved countless lives.
