(no subject)
DREAMS
I dreamed about vampires, okay? I read a ton of vampire books before sleeping and dreamed about vampires and woke up wrong and I can only remember remembering but not the subject remembered. Hmmph.
MICROFICTION
He examined the damage. Nine inches of paint-trade, red on blue, like somebody cut the sky and now it was bleeding. Mostly superficial damage, to be sure. It could have been worse. But he just got this car, and he's the office punching bag at work, and his wife is definitely sleeping with his boss, and there's too much coffee and regret in his system.
And he just got this car. He just got it. He just got this car. It becomes a mantra as as strides over to the old fart in the red jeep. He is smelling blood.
A short shouted altercation, and without thinking, he throws down the gauntlet. The old man stands up out of his jeep, short little guy... but wiry, the businessman is seeing now, and he processes the story that has just been woven out of his actions. There is virtually no way that the old man is not a Vietnam vet or an ex-Navy Seal. He is going to die over a stupid damn car.
He swings wildly, catching the flatfooted old man with a right hook. He goes down. Hard. And the parking break wasn't on, the red jeep shifts from the impact and rolls backward over the guy, popping the ribcage apart and splattering its contents as the man looks on it horror.
Twenty years to life.
I dreamed about vampires, okay? I read a ton of vampire books before sleeping and dreamed about vampires and woke up wrong and I can only remember remembering but not the subject remembered. Hmmph.
MICROFICTION
He examined the damage. Nine inches of paint-trade, red on blue, like somebody cut the sky and now it was bleeding. Mostly superficial damage, to be sure. It could have been worse. But he just got this car, and he's the office punching bag at work, and his wife is definitely sleeping with his boss, and there's too much coffee and regret in his system.
And he just got this car. He just got it. He just got this car. It becomes a mantra as as strides over to the old fart in the red jeep. He is smelling blood.
A short shouted altercation, and without thinking, he throws down the gauntlet. The old man stands up out of his jeep, short little guy... but wiry, the businessman is seeing now, and he processes the story that has just been woven out of his actions. There is virtually no way that the old man is not a Vietnam vet or an ex-Navy Seal. He is going to die over a stupid damn car.
He swings wildly, catching the flatfooted old man with a right hook. He goes down. Hard. And the parking break wasn't on, the red jeep shifts from the impact and rolls backward over the guy, popping the ribcage apart and splattering its contents as the man looks on it horror.
Twenty years to life.