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Big Wheel Keeps on Turning, Little Wheel Abandoned Its Spouse and Children to Pursue Its Dreams of Becoming a Part-Time Mime in Spain by David S. Atkinson| Flash Fiction | #thesideshow

It wasn’t Saturday when Barney Miller told me to the secret of immortality in exchange for that Hobbit cartoon on Betamax and a package of Ding Dongs, but it was sure Saturday soon enough. It had to be; it’s been Saturday ever sinceā€¦even on Super Tuesday. Frankly, I think things are better that way.

See, Barney said for me to sit on the Saturday square of my Pete Rose string bikini desk blotter calendar/oil filter rack and refuse to move. That way, it would always be Saturday and time would never advance. It time didn’t move, then I couldn’t age. Thus, immorality. You know, just like it’s laid out in Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle. It’s all pretty basic.

Well, there’s also that bit about sacrificing one of the Partridge Family to the dark lord Astaroth using a Hickory Farms cheese serving set, but I was already going to do that anyway.

Admittedly, I thought Barney was yanking my chain, but it’s been several hundred years since I started and I’m still fresh as a daisy. I’ve even married Donald Trump three times I look so young. Luckily he forgets everything that’s happened when he wakes up each morning, like in that Adam Sandler movie about the Battle of Trafalgar, so it’s no harm no foul. Still, that’s pretty good proof of my suspended state, even if the Yakuza put a price on my head in that ad in the back of the Weekly Reader.

Christopher Lambert can be a nuisance, but his handlers usually keep him in check. He just can’t accept that Top Gun was only a movie and keeps trying to act it out whenever he gets near me. I’d worry about it more, but it’s Saturday and I can’t get too worked up about anything on the weekend.

Immortality has other costs as well. My butt is going numb and that Partridge Family reunion tour is never going to happen now. I can only hope those two things aren’t related, but I’m pretty well bound to acceptance either way.

I mean, it’s not as if Paula Abdul was going to return any of my calls at this point regardless.


David S. Atkinson is the author of “Apocalypse All the Time” (forthcoming 2017), “Not Quite so Stories,” “The Garden of Good and Evil Pancakes” (2015 National Indie Excellence Awards finalist in humor), and “Bones Buried in the Dirt” (2014 Next Generation Indie Book Awards finalist, First Novel <80K). His writing appears in “Bartleby Snopes,” “Literary Orphans,” “Atticus Review,” and others. His writing website is http://davidsatkinsonwriting.com/.