Rassolnik
“Minsk?” Her mouth was agape.
“You’re damn right Minsk! And maybe even the countryside while we’re at it!” His voice firm, eyes steady.
“But I want to go on vacation! What the hell is in Belarus? Why can’t we go to Vegas?” she was indignant.
“It’s quiet in Minsk…I think. It looks like we can have a nice, peaceful time for once. Also, I want to try Rassolnik” he trailed off a bit, looking away.
“What is Rassel-nek?” she shot back.
He hesitated before answering “It’s a soup they make there…it has pickles in it”.
“I hate you,” she said.
From Guest Contributor B. Frederick Foley
B. Frederick Foley is a poet, writer, and editor at www.militaryflashfiction.com. A former Navy Intelligence officer, he now spends his time living between Anchorage and Kasilof, Alaska with his wife and three children. His poetry and flash fiction have been published in several online literary journals.
Please support the site by purchasing one of my books on Amazon. Check out Quitting The Grave, a murder mystery set on the Oregon Trail. Plus, don't forget my other books: They Both Loved Vonnegut, Ahab's Adventures in Wonderland, and Picasso Painted Dinosaurs.