American Pie
Andrew R. Crow
Flash Fiction Winning Story

T he sleet-filled snow felt like grains of uncooked rice, pelting her uncovered face. She squinted through her pink coloured lenses, trying to make out the landing strip.
She shuddered. Her mother would kill her if she knew. Driving from the Winter Party Tour to meet him in person.
She hurried towards the only plane on the strip. Her pink glasses made the landscape surreal, but the bright lighting was enough for her to make out the name on the body: American Pie. She checked her pocket for the gift.
There he was! Some guy next to him was flipping a...coin? She thrust herself at her idol. "Mister Holly? I'm...I came to...I think you're..."
The big man straightened his glasses and laughed. "It's OK, darlin'. I love my fans." He peered at her. "Those are some mighty interestin' glasses ya got there..."
"Thanks! Yeah, you just slide a thin piece of celluloid behind the lenses. My cousin in California said all the kids are doing it. He says it's...cool"
"Cool! I like that. Well, sorry darlin' but I gotta get aboard."
"OK". The gift! "Here, I got you some for your glasses. I thought blue would suit you?"
He took the coloured films from her. "Yeah, they're...cool? I'll stick 'em in when I get settled."
She stepped back and watched him board.
I wonder if he'll wear them at the next show? She couldn't possibly hope...



First published: October 31, 1998
comments: knobs@iceflow.com