It’s been a day of industrious writing here on… this couch in my dorm suite. And all of that writing’s about to come flying at you, the unsuspecting public, like meat launched from a pneumatic cannon. If nobody’s done that yet, somebody needs to do it. I have only simple requests of humanity, world peace, total equality, John Hodgman’s appointment as benevolent emperor of Earth, etc. etc. So a meat-cannon can hardly be out of the question. Hell, I don’t see how a meat cannon doesn’t just add to the probability of those other things coming true.
I feel like you can always tell what kind of mood I’m in when I write these things. For instance, I just found another Beatles song I like (I’m picky with them) so now I’m squirming on the couch going all,
“Here comes the sun,”
“Do do do do,”
“Here comes the sun,”
“That’s what I say,”
“It’s been a long and lonely something something”
“Little darling, it’s been a whole long lamb of laundry”
“Do do do do do do do.”
Or something like that. Incidentally, Friday Fictioneer’s Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ entry this week is about the Beatles. Geeze, you go to their museum in Liverpool once with a study-abroad group and their spirit just haunts you forever, doesn’t it?
Go check out her story though, it’s a lot better than mine!
But have fun regardless~
Title: Presentation is Everything
Genre: Realistic Fiction
Word Count: 100
He wanted to look prepared. Just in case she came to the window again. He wanted her to look down and say, “What a beautiful table. I’m glad somebody in this people’s parking garage still knows how to make things look nice.”
Then he would be ready to answer the door once the doorbell rang.
He was still waiting, though. Waiting and looking at that table. It was pretty beautiful, he thought. He had never eaten on it though, not once. He was saving that feeling for a special occasion. One where he wouldn’t have to face all empty chairs.
There should be a little blue frog here
but I guess it’s on vacation for now
Ironically, Here Comes the Sun references a whole bunch of winter/ice stuff being melted by the sun. And it just so happens to be warming here, reaching a whole 40-something degrees by this Saturday. And then it’ll be back to single-degree temperatures in no time.
I believe the Beatles wrote, “Let it be” about such nonsensical Global Weirdening.
But that doesn’t mean we Illinoisans can’t rage against the weather’s skullduggery.
AND WE WILL.
Good luck, you brave writer folk!