I’ll Try Anything Once

30 07 2007

In true Shari form I decided tonight at 9 pm to try a story for the famous Wordsmiths Unlimited. The deadline is tomorrow. Typical.

Well, here it is….be gentle.


Contradictions

His father was a pedophile, his mother was a saint. His gypsy-wanna-be sister traveling with the tickeytackey circus, refuses to speak to her recently evangelized brother. His high-school sweetheart wife lolls on the bed in a daze of 4 Oxycontin and 6 Schlitz beers. Their free love ideals of the 1960’s have slowly morphed into a prison of indifference- the new millennium of hate.

His once knobby knees now threaten to give way under his enormous weight, increasing by the day on a diet of fried jumbo shrimp and diet soda. His perfect teeth glare their whiteness through his gritty 5 o’clock shadow that last saw a razor last Tuesday at 1 o’clock. The reading glasses that he needs to see the computer screen are thrown haphazardly on the bedside table, releasing a plume of dust from the pathetic vase of silk roses. He curls his nose at the stench that emanates from everything in the room – Unwashed sheets? Cat hair? Urine?

His or hers?

No children, just 3 miscarriages. No joy, only disappointment. His broken heart shows itself more often than not with its fists. Why can’t he feel empathy until after the fact?

His emotions are a glassblower’s jackhammer.

Childhood hopes were dashed a long time ago, working like a dog in the fields since he was four. Unemployment is his right. His only privilege. He will make this work. Something will finally go right for him. Long hours of idleness will eventually lead to the get-rich-quick idea of the century.

The internet, with it dichotomous world of porn and astrological love charts, pain and recipe-sharing chat rooms, has got to have something for him. How do these people do it? Make a million on cheap t-shirts that say “Fuck Bush”? Run a consistent business re-selling beany babies?

Maybe his brother has it right. Maybe you just give your life over to something bigger than yourself. Confess your sins to the world and let it all go. Will it all stop?

A smile creeps to his lips. A starving jackal of a smile, furtively dancing with a sneer. He had it. Just what everyone needed. This was going to be his meal ticket.

The digitized Confessional Booth screen-saver.

Bless me father, we all sin.

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8 responses

31 07 2007
Ant

Wow, dark. But good – I can near smell the imagery.

Digitized confessional booth screen-saver hmmm? Have you copyrighted that?

31 07 2007
Bobo the Wandering Pallbearer

Wow. Nice nice. Good go. Try it again next month!

31 07 2007
tiff

And you have ever so many MORE words you can use!

I do like the air of despair, the cunning bit of acidic evil. I think I know this guy, and I don’t much like him.

Are the perfect white teeth dentures, perhaps? That threw me a touch. I’d expect smoething less, um, hygienic.

The interpretation of the picture is so far off anything I’d ever imagine! And I want one. Now.

31 07 2007
Skully

I got a feeling from this; there was impact. When one reads your writing and gets a gut feeling it means you have written well.

I wonder where the picture fits in. I can’t find it.

2 08 2007
No Celery Please

You fit a lot of description and background into just a few words.

I really get this guy… his whole life, what’s become of him, why he’s thinking this way.

I guess the image fits in with the screensaver bit. I think that area could have used a little more fleshing out.

Nice stuff!

2 08 2007
Squishi

um. I don’t know what to say, so i won’t.

(I love your work tho!) 🙂

3 08 2007
Kingfisher

Didn’t know you had it in you, and I like it.

“A starving jackal of a smile.” Brilliant.

The “glassblower’s jackhammer” is a great phrase, but I’m not sure what it means.

This guy makes me wanna puke. Good job!

19 09 2007
utenzi

The picture is of a DNA microarray–I don’t see how it fits into the story, Shari. Maybe I’m being too “left brain” about it. 😉

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