Vintage Camera by Ran Allen

Vintage Camera by Ran Allen

 

Bill pushed the black button, but nothing happened. Damn Nikon, he should have bought a Kodak like his father told him to. Might just be his cord though. This was so embarrassing. He turned to the family.
“Would you mind stepping out while I take Fluffy’s picture? Sometimes, I feel like they react better when their owners – sorry – family aren’t around.”

The couple looked at each other uncomfortably. Bill could tell they did not necessarily want to leave their pet iguana with him, but they were already so out of sorts from the whole day, they did not protest, and quietly stepped outside.
Bill turned his focus back on the iguana. “Right, now listen Fluffy-”
“Spike,” the iguana interrupted in a cockney accent.
Bill raised an eyebrow. “Spike?”
“Yes. My name. They’re the ones who call me… fluffy.”
“Right then, Spike. I won’t tell them that you can talk, if you don’t tell them that I did this.” Bill rolled his pant legs up and hoisted himself up the side of the camera. He stood on the top of the small black Nikon, and walked over to the button.
“They didn’t know you were a elf you know. When they set up the appointment I mean,” Spike said.
“I could tell.” Bill took in a breath. “Do they know you’re a boy?”
Spike shrugged, the left lacy sleeve of his dress fell off his shoulder. He lifted a hand and pushed some of the long brown hair from his tiny wig from his face. “Do you think they care mate?”
“No, guess not.” Bill stood on top of the button and jumped, a flash so bright it made the iguana’s head dive under his own arm. “We’re going to do one more, but this time, look away from the camera, like you’re in deep thought about whether Ken is going to pick you up for your date.”
“Ken?”
“You look like an iguana-Barbie.” Bill snickered. Not in mockery of the animal, but of the situation. “You do this for me, I got a leather jacket you can put on next. I can print a few small shots for you to show your friends, some that will help maybe get over the embarrassment of this whole sweet 16 thing.”
“Yeah?” Spike looked forlornly over his shoulder, and Bill jumped on the photo button again. Flash.
There was a knock on the door before it opened. “Excuse me, we were just wondering, would you mind if fluffy also used this blond wig?”

I wrote this from a writing exercise in the kit: The Writer’s Toolbox

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