Fiction post! - Fixed point in time

Ricky spun the bottle out of his hands. It spun out and upwards in a lazy spin. It slowed as it rose to the top of its arc and hung there, floating freely like the other five bottles he threw previously. He sighed, tapping them one after the other. Each fell to the floor on contact, though they again slowed down and landed gently on the ground. The sixth bottle had spun higher than the others, and had slowed to a stop at knee height rather than on the floor. Ricky tapped it again, and this time it dropped and broke into three nasty shards. He grinned sadly, "That's a good fightin' bottle now. Maybe someone here will need it."



Nigel's always made for more somber retrospection than Ricky liked. The drinks were still good, but the frozen bar fight made Ricky jealous at all of his old friends. Mostly because they all looked like they were having so much fun. Larry's left hook was just impacting the face of racist who had come in to make trouble. Ricky laughed, "I'm sure that jaw is going to be broken." He glanced over at the others. Jim still hung mid air, diving behind the bar. The man shooting at him was going to be surprised when the bullets disappeared from the gun and from the air.

Grabbing the last good bottle of tequila from the wall, he leaped out the shattered window onto the street. Slim's fall to the concrete from being thrown out looked to be rather dangerous, you know before Ricky drug that mattress from the store across the way. The other half a dozen people near by each had been helped in one small way or another, though the most Ricky could learn about them involved what he could read over their shoulders on the phones everyone carried.

Ricky felt his stomach growl, and started to wander over to the Megamart. The deli meat section should still have some good food there.