100-word Flash Fiction: White Boy by TL Murphy
And another thing, said Earl, we can’t be calling White Boy White Boy no more.
What d’you mean? said C.J. from the back seat. He’s white.
All I could see of C.J. was his teeth shining from the rear view mirror.
He don’t call us you-know-what, said Earl, so we don’t call him White Boy.
What do we call him then? said Dead-Eye. He’s white as snow.
Man, you don’t even know what snow looks like, I said.
Yes I do. It’s white. And you’re white. You’re the damn Snowman.
That’s it, said Earl. He’s the Snowman.
Shit, I said.
About the author
T.L. Murphy is a retired carpenter, a published poet, and an avid skier. He grew up in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, U.S.A. and emigrated to Canada in 1978. He lives in Canmore, Alberta, Canada, on the east side of the Canadian Rocky Mountains about 20 miles from the Continental Divide.
He is a performance poet and has shared the stage with many prominent Canadian poets. He is appointed Poet Laureate of Canmore, a position he will hold for one year. His poems, fiction and non-fiction have appeared in a variety of journals and anthologies and have been translated into Greek and Chinese.