First; Speed Racer Sullivan, inspired by "We'll give you a context and we'll give you a name" from Measuring Cups by Andrew Bird. Ayn's drabble for the same (or a similar, this time we win) can be found here.
His parents weren’t going for subtlety when they named him Speed Racer Sullivan. Then again, with a father in NASCAR and a mother who raced motorcycles, perhaps his name was the least of his worries. He was driving (on private property of course) at age twelve. He got his first speeding ticket at sixteen. By nineteen, he avoided tickets by outrunning the cops. And at twenty-five, he left the land speed record in the dust. But then again, with that upbringing, and that name, perhaps it would be disappointing if Speed was anything less than the fastest man on earth.
Next, "A Friendly Face", inspired by the 5'4", 26-year-old bouncer I talked to on Thursday night, commiserating about being sober and small in a bar full of sloppily drunk, large people.
And, finally, "Ecstasies Innumerable" (yes, that's a Peter Pan reference, because I couldn't write three drabbles without one Peter Pan reference.)
Andrew had an agreeable face; people never disagreed with him. Which is why it was surprising that he instigated a bar fight.
“We’re full,” the bouncer had said. Andrew was about to turn around when he heard the patrons shouting.
“C’mon, let ‘im in!”
“Yeah, he’s small – he’ll fit!”
Andrew turned, eyes widening. He raced inside the bar. The bouncer tried to grab him until he saw Andrew was saving his neck - snatching a beer bottle from a patron’s raised arm. “Play nice,” Andrew said sternly.
“D’you want a job?” the manager shouted from behind the bar.
Agnes never did slow dances. Give her a line dance and she would tear up the floor. Swing or Salsa, Okay. She moshed like a champion and looked graceful jumping up and down to punk. But she was the wallflower of all wallflowers when a slow dance played. Rolling her eyes, she grabbed a glass of water and sat down to listen; “My Heart Will Go On.” She felt, rather than saw, someone sit down next to her.
“I hate slow dances,” came a small voice. “No one asks me.”
Agnes smiled at her cousin. “May I have this dance?”