Pink Snowbunnies in Hell: A Flash Fiction Anthology Read Online Free PDF

no pun intended,” said Judy. The pink snowbunnies groan in unison.
    “We had no experience, but it was hotter ‘n hell,” said Ruth Polder. “So we talked a water-skiing instructor into letting us try.” The conversation devolves as each tries to tell the best learning-process story. “Trial and error—lots of error,” Jo said. The snowbunnies laugh.
    “We’ve been competing for three summers now,” said Betty. “We don’t place, but we have a whole heck of a lot of fun.”
    “And we raise money for breast cancer research,” said Jo. “Pink snowbunnies are the new pink ribbon.”
    Pierce’s face was a story in itself as he read—from skepticism to surprise, then a smile quirked the corners of his lips. Jackie struggled to maintain her equanimity.
    “My travel expense form.” She set another piece of paper beside the first. “I trust my story will be in tomorrow’s paper?”
    “When pink snowbunnies ski in hell,” Pierce said.
    “Texas, sir,” Jackie said. Somehow she managed to keep a straight face as she headed for the door.
    “Jackie?”
    She turned.
    “Welcome to the Chronicle .”
    “Thank you.” She gave her grin free rein as she stepped into the newsroom.
    Jimi Ripley is the author and editor of numerous nonfiction publications; she will soon release her first novel, Dormant, featuring Jackie Davenport. Learn more and sign up for her new releases list at  www.jimiripley.com .

One Wrong Turn Deserves Another
    By Asher MacDonald
    Madge was doing her nails, painting them Too Sexy Turquoise because she said it set off her pink fur. Me, I liked clear mostly, though sometimes I’d go with black, sort of a Goth look, if my mood was a bit rebellious. Which it often was. When you’re a snowbunny in Hell, there’s a lot to rebel against.
    Tina had her headphones on listening to Charon and the River Sprites sing their latest hit, Poling You Cross the River , an upbeat doo-wop number sung as only Charon can sing ’em—the guy is so happy as he takes you across the Styx into Hell, it’s infectious. Yeah, Charon is one of those uplifting souls who, if you dropped your carton of eggs, would scoop up the broken mess and whip up an omelet con pollo for you.I think I got a bit of crush on him as he sang to us. He’s such a dreamboat…
    Our Other Side phone rang. It’s Hell, so the ring was an annoying screech. You need to understand that while Hell is certainly no picnic near a lake of fire, it’s really not all that bad. We have our work to do and a torment to endure now and then, but mostly we have a lot of free time. It’s just that when the labor contracts were negotiated after the Big Split, and Hell was created, one of the stipulations was that we had to endure annoying ring tones. There were others, too, like slicing onions once a week to make us cry. Childish, really, but that’s the pettiness of the crew in Heaven and their holier-than-thou attitude.
    Madge said to me, “Chrissy, dear, can you get that? My nails are still drying.”
    “Sure,” I said. I liked Madge. We had been best friends right up until we took a wrong turn down a mountain and skied off a cliff. Tina had joined us in Hell a few years later, killed by a farmer’s dog while she was peacefully munching carrots and lettuce in his garden. Terrible. She still has a thing about dogs and refuses to go near Cerberus to this day.  The only one of our original pink snowbunny foursome still alive was Lola.
      I picked up the phone. “Hello?” A voice on the other end, one of the imp operators, said, “A person-to-person call for Madge, Chris, or Tina, from Lola, via Ouija board. Will you accept?”
    “Oh, gosh, yes!” I said. I was excited. Lola! Calling from the Other Side! “Madge, it’s Lola!”
    “Lola? Wow, put her on speaker phone. I can’t wait to hear what she’s been up to.”
    When the living contact the dead, it’s a bit tricky. We hear them, but they don’t hear us. We have to type our responses,