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Saturday, February 13, 2016

The Soda Fountain - Flash Fiction



The Soda Fountain © 2016

The stranger drove up outside of the drugstore in his ‘32 Ford Deuce Coup hot rod. The young ladies sitting at the soda fountain turned their heads to stare; their romantic dreams flowed as each of the hopeful women gazed in unison out of the shop’s large entry window. The mysterious young man quieted the motor’s rumble of his classic mechanical masterpiece then entered the establishment.


Looking as though he had just walked off of a silver-screen bad-boy movie, the stranger asked the boy behind the counter, “What’s one got to do to get a root beer float around this town?”

The girls shuddered with excitement as the muscular chiseled hot-rodder turned toward them and greeted, “Good day ladies.”

Sammy Kay’s ‘It Isn't Fair’ played softly in the background while the handsome stranger seated himself.


The young ladies sipped their sodas while stealing sporadic glances of the stranger seated in the booth across from them. Even the soda jerk stared. The young stranger simply sipped his float, not once engaging the eyes of the hopeful girls adorning the tall stools at this local drugstore counter.

This young man was well accustomed to young ladies peering at him. He enjoyed their feathered hats, bobby socks, nylon stockings, poodle skirts and strap-fastened shoes along with all of the other trimmings a young lady needs to be stylish and vogue at any local drugstore fountain counter.

The local sheriff stopped outside for a spell to admire the stranger’s hot rod before he suddenly drove off, presumably due to an urgent call... one of official importance or one of a more natural origin.

One nervous young lady eventually built up enough courage to ask the stranger, “You wouldn't have a spare cigarette, would you?”

The other girls squirmed, not believing their ears, or the aggressive bravery of their friend. They whispered to one another in typical girlish fashion.

The man looked over at the young woman and stated matter-of-factly, “I don't smoke. I don 't believe it looks cool at all, no matter what the movies make it look like. Sorry, sweetheart, I can’t help you.”

Responding quickly, she said, “Oh, I was just trying to make conversation, sir. None of us girls here smoke either.”

“Well, that’s good,” he replied. After taking a few sips from his root beer float, he commented. “Sort of hot today.”

Looking at each other, then back at the stranger, the girls all stuttered, “Y-e-s....”


Chewing gum and hard candy glass jars lined the store's shelves as they always had and always would. The stranger departed and the girls dreamed on while another song played gently in the background. The evening came and the evening went.

Just another day at another soda fountain in another town; a town filled with those who will always have another dream.


~ The End ~

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