Saturday, October 27, 2007


One minute, ten seconds. Sit on the sofa, think about life for a bit. One and five, why live on with this shit? Why take all the squalor, and late rent, and 30% interest bills piling up with a dog that shits all over the newspaper that I'm not done reading yet. 57 seconds now, where did the cute little innocent tick magnet come from? Oh yeah! 53 seconds, that bitch's bitch who had four other blind-as-a-bat bundles of joyousness. Sarah wasn't all that bad, 42, at least she was hot. My friends certainly thought I had it made, 40. She just didn't respect me though, or my space. Shit! Dog left the paper, where's the Woolite?! There--crisis averted, 27, where was I? Yeah, she was great most of the time, like Fido here, but I needed my SPACE! She didn't understand, 20, and neither did my parents. I'm not going to die anytime soon, 15, but I mean come ON! it's like they expect magic to happen, and Sarah's not magic. I finally asked for space, 6, but all I'm left with now is this lousy fleabag dog and her shit that I still have to, 2, clean up and DING! Finally, my Hot Pockets!

My second attempt at flash fiction, also written at the meeting, this time in the last 10 minutes of the writing activity. I'm glad I tried my hand at the genre.


Ankit said...

I think I like the other better. It seems more complete. I'm not sure why, but this one just leaves me wanting to know...about I don't quite know what. Maybe it's just not action-y enough for me.