Random Act of Fiction

Jeb rolled the bike across the grass, the razor-blade tires leaving an aerated wake behind him.

“You sure you can get that thing goin' fast enough to clear us?”

Apparently Buck doubted. Jeb took one last drink from his beer can before, in a very manly style, crumpling it and tossing it towards the line of on-looking ladies. A few of them giggled.

“I'm sure.”

Buck shrugged. “Okay.” He lay down on the ground at the end of the line. The other nine guys hadn't complained. They trusted Jeb. Who was Buck to doubt? Jeb'd show him.

As Jeb turned the bike around, the ladies started to clap. When he threw his leg over the seat, they started to cheer. Some of them even jumped up and down, which caused all sorts of interestin' things to happen. He smiled and gave them a wink.

Using all of the grace and experience Jeb had picked up over his 23 years, he started through the grass and towards the ramp. The bike moved slowly at first, but it started to gain speed. Jeb was about to hit the end of the ramp when he stopped.

Not like he slowed down and then stopped. No, he just stopped. Jeb couldn't move. Not even his little finger.

In front of him, Jeb spotted a couple of people he'd never seen before. They were dressed in mighty nice clothes, and they seemed to be talking to Buck.

“Whoer you?” Buck demanded, sitting up.

“We're from the GPP,” a man in a dark suit and glasses answered. “We're going to need you to sign this please.”

Bucks stared at the heavy document in the man's hand and then squinted up at the man. “I ain't signin' anything that I don't read first.”

“As you wish.” The man dropped the stack of papers onto Buck's ample stomach. His partner, a woman, offered Buck a pen.

Buck rifled through a few pages. “Uh what's it say?”

“Simply put, it states that if you survive this little stunt, you give up all rights and privileges that come with being in the gene pool.”

“The what?” Buck scratched his head.

Jeb thought he should help. “Where'd you say you were from?”

The man in the suit turned to look at Jeb. “The GPP”

“Whas that?”

The man sighed. “We're with the Gene Pool Police. We're here to make sure your friend's particular genetic make-up ends with him.”