Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)
This is the Wakefield Doctrine’s contribution to the Six Sentence Story bloghop.
Hosted by Denise it is governed by a single rule: all stories must be exactly six sentence in length.
Prompt word:
MACHINE
“You know what this joint needs?”
It was late morning on the first Tuesday of the New Year and the Six Sentence Cafe & Bistro was as empty as an upside-down pail.
Seeing the woman sitting at the end of the long bar, the tall, thin man shielded his eyes from an imaginary light-source and called-out in an exaggerated aside, hand in front of his mouth, palm outwards, “Mimi, you’re not gonna leave a brother hangin’ metaphorically-….”
“Cher, surely you don’t mean, ‘dialogue-istically speaking’, were you to, you’d end up as tangled in the alliterative underbrush as an ole gator what chased un cocodrie in his leaky pirogue,” the diminutive woman laughed with a natural kindness that defied mockery.
“Sorry, I thought the Café fiction machine was on the fritz again, please do not let me disturb your reflection, I just…” the well-dressed Proprietor had a look of chagrin even as he lit another of his favorite brands of cigarette, Player’s Navy Cut; seeing the look in the woman’s eyes, he hastily added, “No, I gave up years ago, but I have a Reader who, though no longer a smoker herself, enjoys their fictional representation,” his smile served as convivial punctuation.
The laughter from the bar reminded the tall, thin man of how, in a fictional reality, things really do work out for the best, even as the peaceful impromptu moment was interrupted by the Bartender bursting through the kitchen’s double swinging door.
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