[Author's note: I wrote this on 6/9/19. My friend Philis had told me about a contest where the flash piece had to be 55 words or so. Just like I was in high school, I waited until the last minute to whip this off, but didn't bother to enter the contest. I was thinking about a banal conversation where a married friend had tried to fix me up with a blind date. Due to my response, my friend has stopped trying. The topic is somewhat ironic, Amazon Prime just came out with a mini series regarding just that]
“Amazing, right?”
She smiled brightly at me.
“No. What’s amazing is that after his wife cut off his penis, drove 10 miles away, threw it in a field to let who knows what kind of animals chew on it, that he was able to get it reattached and go on to become a porn star"
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Dear John
By the time I get to Phoenix you'll be rising. You'll stumble by on your way to the bathroom where you'll miss
most of the bowl, not wash your hands or even flush. Gross! You'll pass again, and for just a second, hesitate,
staring at the spot where I used to be. You'll stand there scratching yourself in your grungy boxers with that
dumbass look that you get,and not registering that I'm gone, you'll go back to bed.
By the time I make Albuquerque you'll be driving the two short blocks to work ( no chance of you ever
walking, and I'm the one called Lazy Boy?) with that look on your face again, thinking to yourself "there was
something different about my living room". Dude! The lamp figured it out before you, and he's only a 15 watt
bulb!
By the time I reach Oklahoma you'll be having your third donut from the box in your desk and the realization
will hit you."Hey, I got robbed!" ( talk to the lamp when you get home, buddy). Well, here's the news
Tchaikovsky, I left! It was nice when I first moved in, you were at least 50 pounds lighter and I was a younger
piece, but you changed. I feared for my safety with the excess weight you put on me. Do yourself a favor, put
down the Fritos and the Ben & Jerry's and step away, nobody gets hurt. You might wanna consider some
exercise, but I guess I might as well be talking to the rug. The closest you'll ever come to a marathon is the
time TBS ran the Three Stooges weekend (which you spent most of lying on me),remember?
Don't wait up old friend, I ain't coming back. Thanks for the memories.
I’ve Gotta Get Out of These Clothes,Fast! (746 words written 05/12/2012)
I've gotta get out of these clothes,fast!
The telltale stickiness and color are dead giveaways to what I've just done. If someone sees me now, I'm finished! How can I get into the house and take off these clothes before I'm caught?
My mind is spinning out a million possibilities, none seem workable. I hesitate in the shadow of the barn, far away enough from the house that no one will see me while I nervously pace back and forth trying to come up with a plausible excuse for my appearance, but I'm drawing a blank. Damn!
The wind whips up, making me shiver violently. My thin cotton shirt clings to my ribs with the congealing mess, and now there's a foul odor as well. It's a full moon, but dark shadowy clouds are drifting past, making the light flicker ominously. Idly it comes to mind that a high percentage of violent acts occur when it's a full moon; would that even be considered a reasonable defense?
A movement in my peripheral vision startles me, I stifle a scream, then almost giddily guffaw when I see it's a stray cat. Bending to call it nearer, I'm shocked when it arches its back and hisses angrily, inflaming my paranoia. How in the hell did it come to this?
I need a drink to calm my frazzled nerves. No, I need to keep my mind clear, until I can think of how to get away with what I've done. I look at my watch and realize that Pat will be going to bed soon, I can just wait it out, and then sneak into the house and get out of these clothes that tell the tale of my act. My cover story of a meeting in town will let me wait it out without anyone waiting up, catching me in my present state. I shiver again, and with a start, realize that I've still got the knife in my hand! What the hell!
The knife blade is colored with the same sticky congealed mess as my clothes, a sob catches in my throat as the reality of what I've done shocks me awake like a slap in the face.
Suddenly the porch light clicks on, its bare bulb piercing the darkness with a harsh white glare. I duck back in the shadows of the barn as a voice I know well asks from the doorway,
" Hello?Is someone there?"
I back all the way against the outer wall, pressing myself flat against the coarse gray boards of the barn, willing myself invisible. I could never explain what happened, I'm still trying to make myself believe that I was capable of committing what I'd done just a scant half hour ago.
The porch light flicked off, leaving me in total darkness. Unconsciously I wipe the knife against my pant leg, then remember the mess still inside the barn. Willing myself not to scream, I slide back and nearly gag at the odor. Making a pouch of my stained shirt, I scoop everything into it and rush for the back door of the house. Once I get out of these clothes, I can deal with hiding everything else, and I just may get away with it.
Inside the house, a faint light from the kitchen casts an ominous glow as I head for the stairs. I'm almost there, when the hallway light is quickly switched on, and I hear a blood curdling scream from Pat.
" Mommy!" she shrieks . " you cut the pumpkin without me! How could you?"
It's true. I'd promised her we would do it together, but impatience took over and before I knew what happened, I’d carved her Halloween Jack-O-Lantern myself, not trusting her to wield the knife, or even pick out an appropriate design.
Her cries woke my husband Steve who shuffled to the top of the stairs and sleepily took in the scene below him. He stared at me , then at Pat halfway between us, still sobbing, before shaking his head, going back to sleep.
" Honey, I'll get you another pumpkin tomorrow, I promise! We'll still have time to carve it together, I just wanted to practice with this one, okay?"
Pat glared at me accusingly, but slowly quieted down and trudged back up the stairs to her room. I looked down at myself and realized, " I've got to get out of these clothes!"