Flash Fiction: Identity Crisis

Flash Fiction Unicorn ChallengeA quick Flash-fiction story (or should that be conversation) based around Unicorns. written as part of the “Flash Fiction Challenge: That’s Right, I Said Unicorns” on Terribleminds.com’

“Right, so you know what we’re doing?”

“Well, yeah. The plan’s easy enough. We charge into the bank and…”

“No! No we don’t. We wait outside until…?

“10:15”

“Right, and why’s that?”

“Less security guards?”

“Ok, then what?”

“We hold up the bank with the shotguns, grab as much money as we can, and then get out in less than five minutes.”

“Perfect, any questions? You won’t have a chance later, so I need to make sure you’re cool with the plan now.”

“There is one thing that’s bothering me”

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“Well, not just one thing really but several things”

“Such as?”

“Well, we’re not wearing any disguises so wouldn’t people be able to recognise us?”

“Recognise us? Unless it’s escaped your notice, we’re unicorns. What type of disguise were you thinking of? A silly moustache maybe, or some kind of amusing dress? Two half-tonne unicorns are gonna really have to go out of their way to not stand out in a bank.”

“Also, the shotguns?”

“What about the shotguns?”

“Well, have you ever tried firing a shotgun using your hooves?”

“Well, erm not exactly, no.

“Well, it’s not easy. D’ya remember that time when you locked yourself outside your paddock and it took you nearly an hour to open the gate catch with your tongue? It’s gonna be worse than that.”

“Alright, Mr. Negative. What if we strapped the shotgun to my horn, and tied a piece of string to the trigger. I hold the string in my mouth, and when I need to fire the gun, I pull the string?” Perfect! Or are you gonna pick holes in that one too?”

“I don’t want to keep going on about the whole ‘hoof’ thing, but I suspect it’s going to be just as tricky to attach the shotgun to your horn, without the impossibility of trying to tie string with your hooves. That’s before we consider the fact, that your horn points upwards. So to aim the shotgun at anyone you would have to be looking down all the time. Of course, if anyone tries to stop us by slowly abseiling from the ceiling we’re a shoe in.”

“I’m starting to suspect that you might not be fully on board with…”

“…and what do we need money for anyway. We don’t exactly have complex and expensive needs. A bale of hay a day and we’re done. How many unicorns do you see driving round in expensive cars or eating at fancy restaurants?”

“Alright, alright…”

“and bank accounts! How on earth would we apply for a bank account to put the money in, or are you suggesting we just keep it in a pile at the back of the stable…”

“Alright, I get it!… it was a bad idea. I just wanted… it doesn’t matter.”

“What?”

“I just…”

“What is it…?”

“It just, gets to me you know. The whole being a magical and intelligent creature, but not actually being able to do anything. I just wanted to make a statement, a bold move… just do something… anything!”

“So you chose robbing a bank? Why not start simple like, crocheting or painting? Even synchronised swimming, would be easier”

“I envy Blossom.”

“What? You envy Blossom? Blossom, the horse?”

“Yeah”

“She’s an idiot. I had a conversation with her the other day, well I say conversation. I tried to engage her about the merits of an equine based consociationalist society and you know what she said? She just looked at me, shook her head and said ‘neigh’. I mean “neigh”? it’s not even a word.”

“She’s happy though. Those wizards just don’t think about us. Off they pop, zipping here and there making all kinds of magical creatures without even a thought for how we’d feel. All it takes is a wizard to wake up in a bad mood and before you know it you’re a talking horse with an ice-cream cone stuck to it’s face. I wanna go back to what I was.”

“You mean before? You want to go back to being that stupid creature? Just wandering around following its instincts. You wan to go back to being that?”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

“Well, you know what you have to do. Just close your eyes, and wish really hard.”

“Really? That’s it. No quests through monster infested dungeons, or maiden rescuing?”

“Well, the monsters are all on strike over some kind of pay rise issue, and since feminism the number of maidens has really declined.”

“Wow. I wouldn’t have though that Fairyland could be hit by economic recession and gender equality.”

“Oh, it can. The seven dwarfs work at a drive-through now.”

“Damn! How do you know all this?”

“There was an email, didn’t you get it?”

“Email? You mean they finally got round that whole small computer keys, big hoof issue then.?

“Oh, yeah. You should see the keyboard us unicorns have to use, it fills a room. Jeff, tried using it the other day, and ended up getting a cramp in three of his legs.”

“Is he ok?”

“Oh, he’ll be fine. He just needs to put his legs up for a few days. Which as you know is more difficult for a horse than you’d like to think about. Poor guy, he’s just suspended upside down with his only working leg waving about. Anyway, close your eyes, wish really hard and you’ll be turned back to what you were before…”

“Ok, here goes… I want to go back. I want to go back! I WANT TO GO BACK!…”

“There! Done. Take a look.”

“What? What is this? What have I become? I’m a… a… a…. Nooooooooooooooo!”

“Be careful what you wish for eh, kid?  Mwa ha ha ha ha!”

The End.

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3 thoughts on “Flash Fiction: Identity Crisis”

  1. Oh dear. Poor kid. 😀 I love these fully fleshed out anthropomorphic characters, and I wish I could see more of this universe with unicorns on computers and feminism in fairy-tale land. Very nice.

    1. Thanks, I enjoyed writing it. I honestly had no idea where I was going with it until I got there, but I can see myself going back there again in the future.

  2. Bwhaha! Love it! It made me laugh imagining the unicorns using a giant keyboard to check their e-mail. A good touch with the economic downturn in Fairytale land, nice!

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