I saw this over at bluemama's place and decided to try it. Creative writing has never been my forte, but this seemed like fun. Write a short story using the following parameters.
FLASH FICTION CHALLENGE #1:
The setting: A convenience store.
Length: 250 words or less.
In your story, you must include the following bit of text: nowhere to be found.
My Story: Courage
I stood by the comic book rack in the liquor store near school looking for the latest X-Men issue. It must be here. It was Friday and the new issues are always here on Friday. There it is. I found it. The last copy. Why had they gone so fast this week? I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t care because I had found a copy.
I stood there flipping through the pages when I heard it. The sound of the door bell announcing that someone was coming into the store. I looked up and saw him, Logan Dingleberry. At least that is what I like to call him. Well, not out loud. He has picked on me since the third grade. Not today. I wasn't going to take it. Today was the day I was going to find the courage to stand up to Logan Dingleberry.
“What you reading, dork? He said as he walked toward me.
“X-Men,” you giant pile of dog excrement, I replied.
“Give me that.” he said as he snatched it from my hands. "That is what I came here for."
That was it. I couldn’t take it anymore. Three years of his crap was too much. He continued to talk, but I didn’t hear him. I was too busy searching for that illusive courage I needed to end this reign of terror. Suddenly, in that moment, I realized that the courage I yearned for, was nowhere to be found. Oh well, I guess the Dingleberry, wins again. Maybe there is a copy left at the 7-11 by my house.
11 comments:
Ok, I'm going to do this here if you don't mind. What are comments for, right???
I had a gyro for lunch today and ran out of gum. Therefore I took a cab to the 7-11 in Hampden because I didn't want to lose my parking spot at work.
Once at 7-11, I looked for the Dentyne Ice, but I was distracted by the Frappuccino in the corner of my eye. I walked over to the case to get my extra large mocha Frapuccino bottle, turned around and decided I was still hungry. Monterey chicken taquito will do the trick. Portable, non-messy-fake-mexican-for-a-dollar. Good deal.
As I approach the counter, spot the Dentyne ice, lay all of these cravings out on display with the pride that I'm getting exactly what I need to be happy, I find that I have forgotten my debit card. No where to be found.
SHIT.
I had to save my cash for the waiting cab and I really needed the gum, so I put back the Frapuccino, said "nevermind" on the taquito (which was heart wrenching) and counted out all of the pennies in the "spare a penny" cup to get my gum.
Ha! The minty taste of giving something up in order to get what you want!
Nice TG...love those 7-11 taquitos.
I found myself drunk and having sex in the 7-11 bathroom and I realized that at that very moment pride and self respect were no where to be found. As I stood there, faking enjoyment of semipublic fornication with a stranger, my thoughts took me to a higher elevation of thinking.
“Why is there one tile in the ceiling that does not match?” The tile was not completely off; it was a slightly darker shade of white than the others. If I ever get enough motivation up to write a political novel, I think it will be about the presence of these mismatched but still white ceiling tiles. The classic theme of the white people holding the black people down in this model gas station society; where sex and slurpies and 22oz beer can be sold and purchased. Not that I was getting paid for the sex I was having, but prostitution always makes for a better political novel.
There is a knock on the door followed by a melody of words in a harsh language that I did not understand.
Fuck. No wait. Stop Fucking. Stop drinking. Stop ending up in places like 7-11 bathrooms thinking about writing a book and go home and write the damn book.
“Stop”
“I almost done” the stranger says.
“Almost done is close enough, closer than you thought you were going to get tonight right?” I say as I back away from him and start out the door.
As I fake confidence and stumble out into my new empowerment, I notice the white cashier.
B, are you sure this wasn't a flashback to Friday night. I thought I had fun Friday until I read your post. Thanks for the visual...
I swear to all that is good and holy that I did not have public sex on friday night, esp in a 7-11. I just like to put the "creative" in creative writing
Screw you Blogger!
Why did you do that? and how did my comment get ahead of the comment I was replying too and where are the trash cans so I can delete all the extra comments....
found the trash cans...
How did you do that? You only had to reply once...I believe you. I removed the other instances of your reply.
I have no idea... the computer in general is winning in our daily match of wits, which is sad because last week I was one up on him...
Blue:
Your interview questions are up
I woke up for work this morning, late as usual, after pressing snooze the preplanned six times. That left exactly 22 minutes to shower, do hair and make-up, and find something to wear. I usually need about 43 minutes, so I was haulin’.
Made record time in the shower, of course I had to cut out some things (ahem) but I made it out in 4 minutes. Fast, I know.
I did my make-up just quickly enough to get everything filled in but took enough time to avoid getting accusatory Bozo-the-clown-imitation stares.
Clothes were a breeze because I still had another wear left in my not-quite-dirty dark grey slacks and they already had a crease and everything.
I made it out in a record 24 minutes, so I’d just have to speed a little bit.
I hopped in my car and hear the dreaded “Ding ding ding”, which translates into “Hey dumbass, you’re completely out of gas.”
DAMN!
So I flew to the convenience store (which isn’t really located in a convenient place I might add) and pulled up behind a Land Rover with dealer tags still attached. Bastard couldn’t have pulled up more or less so that I could fit into one of the slots and get me some gas. Guess they didn’t want to risk anyone getting near enough to cause any harm to their precious new car.
I noticed that the gas had long since stopped pumping and the owner was no where to be found. So, like any other pissed off, late, gas deficient consumer….I kicked the shit out of the passenger door and left a big ‘ol dent. I noticed the driver then come out of the store, oblivious to world around them, and I smiled sweetly and waved.
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