At the end of the day, I like to come home. Have a smoke and a beer out on the porch and look out over the field next to my house.
This day started out no different.
I sat down in my chair. The warm spring sun shining down on my face.
I lit my cigarette and leaned back as I inhaled.
As I took a sip of my beer I felt like everything was perfect.
This evening, however, was about to be anything other than perfect.
I sat there and looked over the field when I heard the sound of kids shouting and playing out there on the field.
I could see a small group of the little bastards. Running and playing out on the field and instantly this evening was far from perfect.
I should say that I don’t really like kids.
I waited until the group came close enough for them to hear me shouting.
I yelled for them to get off my field.
In the distance, I could hear them laughing. They knew the field didn’t belong to me and yelled back that they could be there for as long as they wanted.
I stared for a while then I gave up and leaned back. Trying to relax again.
Their shouting stopped and I lit another cigarette. My beer was starting to become warm but I didn’t care. The evening was perfect again.
I didn’t hear the kids as they crept up to my lawn and threw a stone right through one of my windows. But I heard them running away laughing.
I jumped out of my chair which sent my cigarette flying from my mouth and ran after the bastards.
They had too much of a head start, or maybe I wasn’t fast enough to keep up.
I gave up.
As I turned around I could see smoke coming from my house.
I ran back there, quicker than I had run before.
When I got back to the house the whole thing was on fire.
I blamed the kids the whole time the firefighters and police were there.
When the firefighters had finished their investigation I couldn’t blame the kids anymore.
The fire had been caused by a cigarette.
My own cigarette.
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Categories: flash fiction