The admiral stands over the lieutenant and studies the layout. ‘Report!’
‘We’ve lost the fleet, sir. The carrier’s sunk, all four destroyers holed, subs unaccounted for. The stragglers are here,’ the lieutenant gestures to a flotilla, ‘hoping to get out at dusk, creep down the coast.’
The admiral adjusts his cap. ‘All is lost, lieutenant. I’ll contact the prime minister.’
‘Are we surrendering sir? Is the game up?’
A bell sounds.
‘Air raid!’ cries the admiral, diving for cover.
The lieutenant staggers to his feet. ‘No, son. Tea time. Can I be admiral next time? My knees aren’t up to this…’
#FLASHFICTION101 August 2021 SHORTLISTED ENTRY
All work remains copyright of the owner. No reproduction of this work is permitted without written permission from the author detailed here. If you wish to contact the author, please contact Tortive Theatre.