Mt. Stafford (147 word Flash Fiction)
He visited Mt. Stafford to donate his recyclables and a bag of household trash. Mt. Stafford may not be very high, but it had doubled in height since he moved to the area 22 years ago. Looking at the peak – birds circling overhead, large trucks bringing more deposits, and the scent of a thousand decaying leather gloves from winters past whiffling down to the resident drop off area – an idea popped into his head. Using his cell, he called the County Council office and suggested that the county could make money using it as a ski slope in the winter. The nice receptionist, swallowing a laugh, politely informed him that it would cost too much for insurance; yet still thanked him for his idea. He was quite understandably perturbed at this reaction to a brilliant idea, and reminded the nice receptionist that next Tuesday was Election Day.
(Mt. Stafford is a work of fiction, © Steven S. Walsky, November 2012)
(I thought of this story in November 2012, while taking my recyclables to the county landfill. A few weeks ago, on a trip there, I saw the smoothing over, and thus this repost. Which once again proves that writers are strange people.)