Flash Fiction, Shorts

Coal-Rolling

Grover Miller had been working in his garage for over a week, and his wife was worried about his health.

Grover was a political activist now. Ever since the government was threatening to cut back on oil usage. He’d be damned if he ever drove one of those smart cars or electric pussy wagons that he was seeing more and more of these days.

That’s why he was adding smokestacks to his lifted, diesel truck. At first, he put on a single and ran it in the garage. The black smoke was intoxicating to him, and he breathed it in freely. After a racking cough, he decided that one simply wouldn’t do. He needed to show those darned liberals that he could do whatever he wanted with his life.

His wife checked on him frequently. Always asking if he didn’t want to work on his truck with the garage door open so he could get some fresh air. Grover just laughed and told her no one would be getting fresh air once he was through.

Grover finished his truck once he added two more smokestacks. Then he ran it in his garage and watched the black smoke pour out. The black smog billowed to the top of the garage and quickly filled the small space. Grover jumped in the air and clapped his hands.

While he was laughing and celebrating, Grover Miller choked on the smog that was filling up his garage. He asphyxiated before he could get to the door.

 

 

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