The last thing he remembered was Cleveland. Or Pittsburgh. Now this room, all white, and a single chair he sat in until the door opened.
And then, “I want to show you something,” and a screen. Video of scientists looking at computers.
“What’s all this?”
“It’s North Korea. They’re marrying their nuclear capability with their missile technology.”
“What’s this got to do with me?”
“We want you to stop it.”
“Me? I just play the guitar.”
“Because of the graffiti we see all over the world.”
“What graffiti is that?”
The tap of an impatient foot. “Eric Clapton is God.”
A 100 Word Short Fiction Every Monday
And Mama raised us up
To never tell a lie
Except when there’s a secret
Where the neighbors tend to pry
(via iTunes shuffle play)