Peepshow
Flash fiction
I went to the peepshow, my very first time. Where the screen goes up and down and the girl in the little room shakes her ass. Only the screen went up and there was no girl. Empty. “What the fuck?” Muted. And other voices. “I want my money back.” “Fucking frauds.” Finally, the few of us filed out, and the man at the door was so goddamned sorry. I’ll kill her, I’ll kill her, I’ll kill her, he kept saying, as he handed us back our cash. He gave me mine.
“She escaped?” I asked.
“Not for long,” he said.
I came back at three in the morning. It was easy to bust in. The lock was rusted, pretty well just fell the fuck off. It was tough with no lights, and I tripped over all kinds of shit, but I found the little peepshow room. A cylinder, like a big, empty frozen orange juice can. And sat in there in the dark. But it wasn’t all the way dark. The eyes adjust. To, what do they call it, ambient light?