Flash Fiction: Crunch

When they had brought Charlie in, when they had told him they were going to get the information out of him, one way or the other, he had no idea that this was the method they were going to use.

His superiors had trained him to not squeal any information even if they were attacking him in the genitalia. But, this, he had never expected something like this.

#

Charlie stalked back and forth, staring at the man on the other side of the glass, and slowly went mad from one of the most effective torture methods ever conceived.

The chip and sound method.

That pale-skinned, perhaps even albino, man ate his chips, one at a time, slowly. Making each crunch a bomb-blast over the speaker system.

Charlie gritted his teeth. They had not fed him anything for the longest time. Starving him out, and then making him eat the tiniest bit of gruel just so he would not die. They did the same thing with water—but, then, oh fucking then, they had done this.

And Charlie was at his breaking point. He was not going to make it any longer.

How could he?

They were salt and vinegar.

Another crunch and Charlie beat his hand against the glass.

The man on the other side only smiled, and picked up another chip, taking an elongated bite out of the side of it. A crumb here, a crumb there, fell to the ground. Over time, he had managed to make the whole thing a minefield of little bits.

When Charlie grimaced at the ground, the man lay down one foot and crunched the particles. He swished his foot back and forth, staring at Charlie.

And then came the final straw.

The man reached off, somewhere just barely out of sight, and produced a bottle of something. He unscrewed the cap and then out poured pure cola. It cascaded across the chip crumbs, and Charlie’s throat surged with fire.

“Okay! I will talk! I can tell you!”

The door to his cell shot open within seconds, and a man in black stood there. He smiled, the tattoo on his forehead shifting with the tightening of his skin.

“Yes?” the man asked.

“The bomb code is…”

Another crunch came from the speaker, and both Charlie and the black-suited man turned to see him taking a bite from another chip.

He looked back at them and gave out a guilty smile. The entire time that Charlie had been there, the man had never said a word, but, now, in a surprisingly high-pitched voice, uttered, “What? I really like these chips.”

Special thanks to: Bob GerkinCollin PearmanDylan AlexanderJerry Banfield, and Michael The Comic Nerd. 

Did you like the article? Dislike? Tell me about it in the comments. I would love to hear your opinions! If interested in specific articles, or want to write as a guest, you can message me at scifibrandonscott@gmail.com. If you want to help keep this blog going, consider becoming my patron at https://www.patreon.com/coolerbs. Thanks for reading!

Want to read some longer fiction by me? How about a whole novel! 

“Just Another Chosen One is a blisteringly paced, action-soaked debut from author Brandon Scott, sure to appeal to those who’ve gotten tired of reading the same old stories about the child of prophecy destined to save the world.” 

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