This month’s theme:
Alphabet Dialogue

Man, writer’s block has been kicking my backside a lot lately. As anyone who reads Cud Flashes regularly knows, I’ve done all manner of things to force myself to write something—random Wikipedia article titles, song titles from albums, and last month’s countdown of number of words per line. This month, here’s a single story of 26 lines of dialogue only (another thing I enjoy doing), with each line beginning with a word starting with next letter of the alphabet, from A to Z. But to prove that I’m really not just phoning it in, each line ends with a word beginning with a letter of the alphabet—from Z to A. This method is a great writing exercise—establishing a ridiculous set of rules and making yourself write something, anything, and then to make it sound like it wasn’t pasted together with random words from magazines. Along the way, tell a story, however tenuous it might seem.

“Alpha Zeta”
Science fiction
By David M. Fitzpatrick

“Any reason I can’t hire you to take me to Alpha System 342, Planet Zeta?”

“Best reason: My ship’s getting worked on. Tesseract core’s out of alignment. That’s why I’m sitting in this dump bar drinking cheap beer. So I could take you, but at sublight speeds it’ll be a ten-million-year trip, Yancy.”

“Crap. When’s it going to be fixed, Xander?”

“Day after tomorrow. But let’s slow down… I’ll need payment up front. You’re an old friend, but running that ship is expensive, and this mission is dangerous. Alpha Zeta is in the middle of a galactic war.”

“Eleven thousand credits. That enough value?”

“Frig, you really want to get there. You screw up?”

“Godawful sc rew-up. And lives depend on it. I really need to get there.”

“Hold on… are you wanted or something?”

“I… let’s just say I’m… running.”

“Just give it to me straight. Cops? Military? Mercenaries? Someone after a bounty to get rich quick?”

“Kind of all of the above. Cops put out a galaxy-wide bulletin. So everyone’s technically after me, but there’s no big reward, and it’s a minor thing, so most of them won’t care. It’s pretty much just the police.”

“Last time you hired me, a convoy of bounty hunters blasted my ship full of holes! You think eleven thousand credits is enough to convince me? If I’ve learned anything, Yancy, it’s that a simple trip to take you somewhere is never ordinary.”

“Maybe so, but boring I am not.”

“No kidding. Okay, we can leave day after tomorrow… but eleven thousand, all up front, and if my ship gets beat up, you’re paying more.”

“Of course. You know, if it helps… this whole mission, this trouble I’m in… it’s all out of love.”

“Please! You said that last time. What was her name? Karen?”

“Quite. And this time, it’s the same woman. Karen Jackson.”

“Really? Same woman? So this is a real romance, a real relationship? Is that it?”

“Sure is. And I need to go to Alpha Zeta and rescue her and her daughters and bring them all back to Earth. The cops have the wrong idea. I’ll sort it out with them later. But, for now, I just need to save her and bring her home.”

“That’s something, my friend. Well, okay, then. Since we were kids you’ve always been on these wild, dumb-ass adventures, but… this one sounds like it’s something else. Something good.”

“Understatement of the year. She’s changed who I am, Xander. And now she’s in trouble, and I need to save her—the way she’s saved me. She’s made me a new man, friend.”

“Victory shall be yours, then—barkeep, we’ll need two fresh beers here for a toast! All right, pal, two days hence, we’ll leave early.”

“When? Crack of dawn?”

“Xander Vale usually sleeps late. But for you… before dawn, chum.”

“You’re the man. Thanks, buddy.”

“Zeta, here we come. For now, we drink to you and Karen. Have another.”

David M. Fitzpatrick is a fiction writer in Maine, USA. His many short stories have appeared in print magazines and anthologies around the world. He writes for a newspaper, writes fiction, edits anthologies, and teaches creative writing. Visit him at www.fitz42.net/writer to learn more.