Flash! Fiction 3 by Peter McMillan - HTML preview
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111
"Slightly. Nothin. We didn't do nothin worth talkin about."
"Anything."
"OK, Mom. Anything."
"Nothing of value in history or math or science, not even in science fiction or current events? Hon, remind me, what's our ROI in this school?"
"Your what?"
"He's a teenager, dear. And Tony, son, just humour your father."
"OK, here's something. There's this tribe of pygmies, like somewhere in Africa or South America, I don't know. Nobody knew about them til one day a plane flew over. The pilot said they got attacked by a swarm of little brown people throwing spears."
"Sounds familiar, hey hon?"
"Mr. MacGuffin, our teacher, said it was a shame, since the people on the plane were most probably planning to bring electricity, running water, medicine and other stuff to the people."
"What a charming touch. You know your old man thought about doing stuff like that. With the Peace Corps, way back before your Mom and I met, hey hon?"
"Still can't picture you doing the B.C. thing in Afghanistan or wherever it was."
"It was just a silly, romantic idea … and like acne I outgrew it."