War | Flash Fiction

Skull and crossbones sketch - "War" flash fiction

“Sir? We’ve just received intel that suggests the enemy will be conducting a major strike at any moment.”

“What kind of strike?”

“Like nothing we’ve ever seen before. Sort of a… complete elimination, I suppose. The destruction of everything we’ve ever known.”

“Will you stop blabbering and get to the point. What are they planning?”

“They’re going to remove the carpets, sir.”


“The carpets. They’re removing them. From the entire house.”



“Is there anything we can do?”

“Not much. There’s a van outside with a couple of unidentified humans in it. Looks like they’ve brought reinforcements and they’re set to begin at any moment.”

“We must have options.”

“Oh, of course. We stay in the carpet and move with it, wherever it may go. Or we find new terrain as soon as possible.”

“Give me the pros and cons.”

“If we stay, we’ll be on familiar territory and we can work on minimising panic amongst the masses. Trouble is, we don’t know where the carpet will end up, but it will almost certainly be outdoors…”

“Oh fuck.”

“…where conditions, as you can imagine, could be life-threatening. If we go in search of new land we might come up against more enemies. The move could be just as dangerous. But if we stay organised and move fast, we might just be able to reduce the time spent outdoors.”

“The dog.”

“Sorry, sir?”

“The dog. The big hairy beast. The slobber monster. The enemy’s furry child. It’s warm and it’s mobile.”

“Ah! We move onto the dog and let it carry us to new territory when the enemy takes it on its daily outing.”


“Good thinking, sir.”

“Make it happen. And do it fast.”


“Are we all aboard?”

“The last few men are boarding now, sir. But there’s a problem.”

“What now?”

“You won’t like it.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“I think we’re fucked, sir.”

“Spit it out!”

“The dog has started to itch.”



“Didn’t you tell the men not to bite until I gave the order?”

“Of course, sir. But some of them couldn’t help themselves. The lure of dog blood was too much to handle.”

“Those animals! Have they no self-control? Heads will roll for this.”

“Ours included.”

“What do you mean?”

“The enemy has seen the dog itching. They’re onto us.”


“They have plans for chemical warfare.”


“We’ve seen the box. Flea treatment.”


“Yes. Sorry, sir.”

“We need an alternative strategy. Back to the carpets? Take our chances outside?”

“The carpets have already been removed.”


“Like I said… I think we’re fucked.”

“Huh. Well… Order immediate evacuation. Every man for himself. There’s no time for anything else.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll get to it immediately, sir.”

“It was nice knowing you, Frank.”

“You too, sir. You want to stick together? We could look out for one another, perhaps try to rally some troops together once we get to safety.”

“No. I’ll stay, make sure everyone gets off.”

“But the flea treatment works fast. You need to save yourself.”

“No, Frank. I’ll go down with the dog if I have to. It’s the honourable thing to do.”

“Your bravery is astounding, sir.”

“Brave? No. Stubborn? Definitely. You better believe I’ll keep biting this bastard until the very end.”

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