Just kidding about the downhill stuff. Life is pretty okay. I wasn’t joking about the flash fiction contests. This week was my second win and third honorable mention in the two weekly contests I’ve participated in over the last three weeks.
I was so stoked (yes, stoked) I submitted 75 words to ParagraphPlanet.com. When you’re hot ya gotta take full vantage and also wear plenty of deodorant cuz of bein’ hot and all cuz let’s say you was to win and stuff you wouldn’t want to smell up the joint and get kicked out for bein’ all smelly and junk.
If it wasn’t clear to you, which I’m certain it was, but just in case, that up there, what you just read, was a super superb (so super in fact, I had to add another letter to it) impression of the Beaver from Leave It To Beaver.
What was my winning submission? Nosey little thing aren’t you? I mean, this is only my second blog post and we just met and all. I’m not sure I’m ready to go that far yet.
I mean, a guy’s gotta feel comfortable and all. If we go too fast next thing you’ll want a joint checking account and for me to leave the door open when I’m um … er .. reading.
Okay, okay. Don’t cry. I didn’t mean it that way. I like you. Yes, I really do. No, I’m not trying to alienate you. Here, see, I’ll share the flash fiction with you. (You big baby.)
beginning word has to be: cross, ending word has to be: dominant, photo prompt: old abandoned swimming pool
Directions from a Dirty Vagrant
“Cross the tracks, take a right on Wilshire. Old community pool be on the left.” The dirty vagrant held out a hand like a bellhop in a five star hotel. I pressed a single into his filthy paw just hard enough to let him know there wasn’t any more coming. With his free hand, he grabbed my outstretched arm by the elbow and pulled me close, a power move I’d seen politicians and CEOs use then he grinned, displaying scattered blackened nubs, gifts from a life-altering meth addiction. When he released me, I ran toward the tracks, humiliatingly subservient. Behind me he laughed, deliriously dominant.