Common Myths and Uncommon Legends

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Lucy spit toothpaste residue into the sink and checked her teeth in the mirror. She smiled at herself and continued her preparations for bed.

“Do you realize we live in a society that doesn’t have any folklore?” she said to Mack.

“Why do you bring this up after my bed time? You know I can’t focus on anything deep after 10 o’clock,” said Mack. He was already in bed, trying to sleep.

“Think about it. We don’t have any modern myths. Mack, can you think of any? I bet you can’t. Mack,” she said, pushing his shoulder.

Mack grumbled and sat up. “What about the story of the lady who went to Mexico and rescued a small chihuahua from a gutter? She brought it back home and nursed it in her bed. When it didn’t get better, she took it took it to the vet. They told her it was a Mexican sewer rat. That’s an urban myth. There are tons of them.”

Julia frowned as she slipped beneath the comforter. “No, there aren’t. You just made that up.”

Mack rubbed his eyes in frustration. “Why would I wanna… forget it. You’re right. There are no more myths. Can we go to bed now?” He turned out the light.

The room went silent and Mack nestled into his pillow. Lucy flipped on the light, piercing his comfort. Lucy glared at Mack.

“What?”

“You’re not doing that. You disagree with me but you let me win,” said Lucy.

“So?”

“So, you’re not allowed. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Mack squinted. “You don’t wanna know what I’m thinking right now.”

“About modern myths. You tell me one more and I’ll let you sleep,” said Lucy, stubbornly.

“You promise?”

Lucy thought for a second, then nodded. “Yes.”

“Fine. Tattoo artists are the most honest people in the world.”

“Why?”

“People with that many distinguishing marks can’t afford to make enemies or be wanted by the law. Good night,” said Mack. He turned out the light and rolled over.

Lucy refuse to lay down. She sat up in bed with her arms crossed.

“What now?”

“I change my mind. You let me win, so I win,” said Lucy.

Thoughtlessly, Mack snapped, “Whatever. Sometimes I think you’re an urban myth.”

“And what do you mean by that?” The anger in Lucy’s voice was palpable.

Mack froze as his mind raced. “It means you’re too good to be true.”

The seconds of silence seemed like minutes. Suddenly, Lucy laughed and she stroked Mack on the shoulder. “I may be an urban myth, but you are definitely a legend. Good night.”

Mack breathed a sigh of relief. “Good night,” he said.

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About vanyieck

There is nothing about me that is more interesting than you. I am a man. I have a wife and family. I have a career. I have two dogs. I
This entry was posted in fiction, flash fiction, humor, humour, Mexican sewer rat, short fiction, short story, story, tattoo artists, urban myth, urban myths and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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