Cubicle Hermit

“This is my boomstick,” yelled Bob.

The villagers looked at him incredulously and returned to their business, if perhaps a bit more slowly. Bob cycled the bolt on his rifle, which made a satisfying thunk as it fed a cartridge into the chamber.

The villagers continued going about their business with nothing more than a few wary looks, but the apparent tranquility was swiftly broken as Bob raised the rifle to near-vertical and fired a shot into the air. With the loud report, several villagers ran from the square; others stopped what they were doing and dropped behind cover.

However, one tall woman simply turned towards Bob and said, “That wasn’t funny.”

“Well, at least it got someone’s attention.” Bob returned the rifle to a relaxed carry. “I take it you know what this is?”

“Yeah, and ‘Boob Stick’ was only funny when Bruce Campbell said it.”

Bob looked at her for a moment. “Whoever you are, you’ve sure gone native. How long have you’ve been here?”

“Put that away and we’ll talk.”

Bob removed the clip, then opened the bolt and slung the rifle on his back. “This good enough?”

“For now, yes,” she said, nodding. She gestured with her hands for the villagers to get up, then spoke briefly in their language. They slowly began to get up and resume what they were doing.

“Seems like you’re American too,” she said, “and recently arrived from your behavior.”

He nodded. “Mind answering how long you’ve been here?”

“Nine years. It was 1997 back when I appeared here. Is it 2006 over there?”

Bob shook his head. “Twenty-twelve. Does that mean time passes quicker here than there?”

She muttered something under her breath, then replied, “I don’t know. You’re the first person I’ve met who might have been from the same Earth, or at least one close enough to get a recent movie reference. Some of the others have had calendars which were just … different … or come from the 1500s.” She shook her head. “So I don’t know; maybe your Earth was always six years ahead of mine.”

“Fair enough.” Bob sighed, loudly, and extended his hand. “My name’s Bob.”

“For now, you can call me Alice.”

I haven’t written much fiction in years, but I found some handwritten bits and pieces from a very boring training a few years ago. I’m not planning to ever try reusing these, so while I’ve slightly edited in retyping them, I’m sharing them here. First one today, second soon, probably limited to two. I’ll consider putting further writing exercises and shorts, and/or some of my old-old writing up here should anyone be interested. Longer pieces will be after the break; this one isn’t long enough.

“Bob, turn around,” came a voice from behind him where there should only have been empty desert. Bob turned slowly, placing a hand upon the rifle at his shoulder.
Standing half a dozen feet behin him was a short young man in khakis and a green polo shirt. His pallor, messy hair and glasses gave bob the sense of someone who studied too much.
“You don’t need the gun, Bob.”
Bob eyed the stranger carefully, then relaxed. “You’re from earth? How do you know my name?”
“This too is Earth,” said the young man, gesturing around them. “In a manner of speaking, at least. Just not one that either of us knows.”
“What do you mean? There’s only one earth, and this,” snorting for emphasis, “sure isn’t it.”
“No, it’s not the Earth from your home universe. Or my own. But it’s an Earth.”
“What? Home universe? Since when is there more than one? How did we get here, then?”
“I can’t explain all of that to you, Bob. This place has its rules, and that would be breaking a big one.” The young man paused a moment. “But I think you know in one sense how you got here, if not why.”
Bob thought for a moment. “There was a crash of light, and my car crashed. I must’ve been knocked out for a minute. I think. When I came to my senses, I sure as heck wasn’t along I-80 anymore. And Mary was gone.”