Impulse – 100 words

Why are the news people so stupid? It’s in the other room because I can’t be trusted. I have no impulse control. That’s what the judge told me when I punched that car.

Peanut butter sandwiches help. Something to do with balance of carbs and protien and how they slow the absorption of food which makes my brain more controllable. I don’t understand it, but if I say it like that my parole officer stamps my card and I’m OK for another month.

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Stranger – 100 words

Photo by Craig Murphy

It was a Sunday morning stranger on a park bench kind of day. Lucy peed on the stranger’s leg and ran off to look for squirrels. The stranger looked down at his dampened leg, looked at me, then returned to his book. I shouted an apology but he didn’t respond.

I sat down next to him and apologized again. Without looking up he said, “Dogs.” We sat in silence for a long time. He reading, me watching Lucy romp with a variety of dogs, children and even the occasional cat.

Eventually Lucy tired. We walked away. The stranger read on.

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Express – 100 words

Photo by davocano

Anthony stepped into the path of the 37 Express. The driver, distracted, saw Anthony too late. It hurt less than expected. As Anthony’s body arched backwards, instead of having his life flash before his eyes, he saw a highlight reel of the worst movies ever. Before he could scream “that’s not fair,” his head hit the pavement and everything became pain and darkness.

When the light returned a crowd was gathered around him. He felt he should say something profound. So he said, “Something profound.” One woman laughed and took his picture. Satisfied, Anthony surrendered his spirit to the void.

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The Gate – 100 words

Many men are at the gate. I don’t know who they are or what they want. I don’t speak their language. I’m sure there is some mistake. I’ve done nothing wrong. They must be looking for someone else.

Yet, I dare not open the gate. They are a crazed mob and I doubt they will take the time or effort to confirm my identity. I keep shouting my name but they do not hear me over their own noise.

If I lay face-down on the ground and put my arms straight out they will surely spare me any violence. right?

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Yawn – 100 words

Photo by nabriola

She yawned her sing-songy yawn. At this hour, just past midnight, that yawn could mean any one of seven things. Only one involves me. Just to be sure I reached towards her and found her bare shoulder.

She didn’t react. That’s not always bad. She didn’t pull away. I rubbed her shoulder gently and I felt her muscles relax. That’s good.

Then she made the worst of all possible noises. A steady snore that indicated that she was not only asleep but was well on her way to a long deep hibernation. I pulled back my hand and drifted off.

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