Creative juices are flowing

Another small bit of flash fiction for your reading pleasure.

Parlor Tricks
My father has detachable ears.
Oh, you’d think it was a great trick and all, much better than the stale bit Uncle Sal pulls every Easter/Thanksgiving/Christmas when he asked one of the little kids to “pull his finger.”
Or your little sister’s kinda hot friend who can turn her eyelids inside-out.
Or the creepy-skinny, white-fish-skinned kid who pops his shoulder blades out in gym class.
But my dads ears, they’re just nauseous when he takes them off. Trust me.
He says its an old war wound, but take his age and do the math. It doesn’t pencil out.
Freak.
Take my 12th birthday, a Western-themed affair where Brad Pittenger accepted my invitation. A return invite to his birthday would cement my status through high school.
Dad’s drinking beer out of a jelly jar, and just as everyone is eating cake – chocolate with milk chocolate icing – and marveling at the gift haul, he slips them off. His ears.
He’s got them cupped in his hands, side-by-side like butterfly wings and asks Brad if he wants to see a good trick.
And he managed to wiggle the things.
Pittenger erupts in a spray of vomit - cake, icing, pink lemonade – looking a lot like the lion’s head fountain in the park. It’s coming out his nose, for chrissakes.
“Well, what do think about that?” my father asks, looking around fully pleased.
And I think, ‘Epoxy takes too long to set up. Wonder if Superglue is sticky enough?’