Tonight’s Flash Fiction is brought to you by the letter ‘R’ and the number ‘11’. I surmise that it’s NSFW, so you’ll have to go below the cut for it.

It took me about an hour and a half to write and edit it. An adolescent part of me thinks it might be a good idea to challenge EOB posters and readers to do some Flash here.

For those submitted by other than The Seven, who can create their own damn posts, I’ll be happy to create pages here and do posts linking to them, with permanent links out of our Downloads page. Send me an e-mail at eatourbrains-at-gmail.com.

No money, you greedy little narcissists. Creative Commons licensing, which is what we all operate under here.

To qualify as Flash, it must be under 2,000 words. The shorter the better, in this particular game. Mine is exactly 500 words. More points for me.

People might even make comments about your efforts. Remember, there is no Teh Suck here. There is only early draft and learning experience.

On to ‘Memories’:

:

:

One day, the aliens fucked up. The effect of their memory-eraser rays wore off of everybody all at once.

Our remembering military guys caught the ones still in their secret bases in Las Vegas (of course Las Vegas is ass-deep in aliens, that’s always been goddam obvious!) and the hidden sub-basements of Cheyenne Mountain. The rest of them escaped, but they left a lot of stuff behind.

We captured cool advanced technology, like trans-dimensional FTL drives and matter replicators and computers that never crashed. Some of us remembered that the aliens also had really delicious non-fattening foods, too, and drugs that would get you high without any bad side effects. At all.

The government said that was ‘false memory syndrome’. Those lying puritanical bastards. I remember eating all of that ice cream when the aliens had me, and I didn’t gain an ounce.

It was another shock when we realized that the aliens started Taking people as soon as they turned eighteen, and had Taken damn near everyone by the time they turned forty. Some people got Taken dozens of times.

It was impossible to learn their language, and they seemed unable to learn ours. After being forced to watch reruns of ‘Sesame Street’ all day, every day, for eight months, they cracked. They admitted that they spoke every human language.

Finally, live on worldwide tee-vee, President Gore asked why they did it. Why all the secretive kidnappings and probes and samples and memory-erasing?

“We’re scientists. We’re taking DNA samples of all you so that we can recreate the human race in another solar system after Global Warming kills you all,” their leader said. All the other ones nodded. President Gore frowned.

Because we had already figured out the cure for that, from the gravity-control machines the aliens had. President Gore waved a hand, and an Air Force general came into the room with them, dressed up like Big Bird. They all started to scream.

“Oh, hell,” their leader said. “I can’t take this crap any more. It was –“

The world held its breath. “Sex tourism.” The leader said. The other aliens nodded. “Aliens from all over the galaxy got their freak on here. We got rich and partied 24/7 and stayed wasted all the time. It was an addiction. We need treatment. And religious instruction. Yeah.”

Lots of people said they were pissed when they found out, and there were calls to have them all executed. But not very loud. However, we did make them watch the Paris Hilton tapes over and over, until they now projectile vomit uncontrollably, whenever they hear the word ‘sex’.

Or the words ‘Paris Hilton’. Like everybody else.

We don’t talk about it much any more. Bygones, and all. And I think we’re all a little ashamed.

I think I know why we humans didn’t kill them all for what they did, when we remembered. I’m trying to be honest here:

It was the best sex I ever had.

And the ice cream was even better.

:

: