He likes me…He likes me not…He likes me…a short flash fiction story by Chris Wilson

He likes me...He likes me not...He likes me?

He likes me…He likes me not…He likes me?

As one who is in love with the English language, I loathe the modern indiscriminate and inane use of the word, “like”. Call it revenge, call it a fight back against an ever encroaching tide of banality, call it Twelfth Night of what you will, but I hope you enjoy this snippet of a story.

This is my first attempt at flash fiction, so be as blunt as you like as regards any comments. Try and make them constructive though, as it is the only way that my writing can improve

Never mind, if you get bored,  I hope you enjoy the video clip at the end of the story. Having been in catering, and now in retail, I can assure you that it is not as far fetched as it seems!

He likes me… He likes me not…He likes me?

A short story by Chris Wilson

“Chloe, what’s this I hear about Joey?”

“Joey, he’s fine, but, like..”

“But what?”

“Well, he’s hot, but like, different, and I’m not too sure where I stand”

“Go on. I know I’m only your Aunt, and, probably, according to you, past it, but talk to me. I’ve got two kids of my own remember, and no stork dropped them of at my doorstep, so maybe I’ll understand”

“Well, you know when you’re really keen on someone, and you feel all hot and bothered inside. Well, that’s how I feel about Joey, but, like, I don’t how to put it into words. I’ve tried to show him, but, like, all he wants to do, is to hold or kiss my hand”

“And you want more?”

“Well, yes. Oh my God, I can’t believe I’m talking to you about this. It’s, like, he wants to wait, you know what I mean? He says he loves me, and that he fancies me, but, like, he says he wants to get to know me better as a person. To see if we’re meant for each other, before, we go the whole way. It’s nice and dead romantic, but, like, I’m not used to this, and, Oh my God, it feels, like, sort of strange.

“Go on”

“Right, take last weekend. We went camping, yeah, just me and Joey, and it was dead pretty, with nobody to disturb us.  We talked a lot, we walked by the river bank hand in hand, and he even kissed me gently when we sat down together, underneath the old river bank willow trees, but, like, nothing else, happened. If you know what I mean”

“Two tents or one?”


“Two sleeping bags or one?

“Two, but, like, mines, a twin zipped double. Plenty of access, and plenty of room for two. I even showed him, twice actually, and invited him to sit close by me’ Oh my God, I even  showed him how the zips worked, but, like, he just smiled, moved forward slightly and kissed the back of my hand. “

“What just that? No cuddles, no hands running up your back, or around your waist and dropping down onto your bum? No searching tongues, or let alone anything else on the side?”

“No, nothing at all.  Do you think he really loves me, like, or, do you think he’s gay, or seeing someone else on the side? I think I’m kinda pretty, but, like, what do you reckon? What do you think of him? I think I might be in love with him, but, like, do you think I should carry on seeing him, or walk away and leave him standing to one side, while I carry on looking around?

“Oh, how sweet, oh how this brings back many fond memories. Sweet sixteen, the pair of you, and with two red-hot, randy bodies overflowing with hormones, and gagging  for a bit of fun. He’s a nice boy, a really nice boy in every sense of the word. Chloe, he’s a real old fashioned gent, and I like him. I really like him a lot, from what you’ve told me. You’ve cracked it girl, and you should keep him. Now you take good care of him, there’s not many of his type around!”

“ Like him? What d’you mean, you like him? I don’t, like, understand!

The end


Categories: Flash Fiction Short Story, Short Stories

Tags: , , , , , , ,

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