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#1
Round 2 in our most recent string of short story comps.
Weaponized was the winner of our last one and here's a link if you havent seen it:

This time around I'm gonna try a couple different things. First, we are going to have a theme. Second, we are going to try a new rule about judges since we had so little judges last time. So, let me know what you think of the changes, but other than that the competition will pretty much go the same way the last one did.


RULES:

#1. NO PLAGIARISM. Pre-written stories are fine but no using other people's stories without their permission.


#2. If you enter the contest, YOU MUST BE A JUDGE, BUT YOU CANT JUDGE YOURSELF. Once, we have reached the deadline, judges/contestants will write and email lists of their most favored stories, numbering them from best to worst. Any more questions about this just post here or PM me. This is the new rule I'm trying out so let me know what you think.


#3. Since we had a one month deadline last time and still had to push it back, im gonna give it a month and a half this time.
ENTRIES MUST BE SUBMITTED BY Mar. 9, 2015


#4. This time around our theme will be: FAMILY. So, writers, your stories should have some kind of family element to them, whatever "family" means to you. Entries not complying with the theme will not be reviewed for competition entry.


#5. Entries should be between 1,500 and 10,000 words. This might change as if a majority decides it should.

#6. No re-submitting entries. If you have already submitted an entry as part of the last comp, you cant use that same entry.

Check back with the OP for updates or edits every once in awhile.
So, there ya go! Let me know what you think of the changes and get writing!
Good luck everyone!
If you do something right, no one will know you've done anything at all

Proud to be called Best Friends with Pastafarian96
Last edited by Harvey Swick at Feb 23, 2015,
#3
I'm in, once again! Be prepared for another ****ed up entry from me
Gear:
2011 Fender American Standard Stratocaster
2012 Tanglewood TW170

Boss Katana 100w 1x112
Line 6 HD500
#5
I might be interested.
Quote by Mattron2000
Shadowenspirit,
Developmental Tamer.
Shadowenspirit,
Ancient Sandwich Crafter



I have never made but one prayer to God, a very short one: "O Lord make my enemies ridiculous." And God granted it.


-Voltaire



So it is written.
#6
I'll judge this round.
Quote by SlackerBabbath
My ideal woman would be a grossly overweight woman who would happy go jogging, come home all sweaty and let me put my dick under her armpit while she shuffles a pack of cards.

Stay classy, pit.
#8
I'll write something serious this round, and not about Eastwinn, I suppose. And I promise it won't start with a cheesy gunshot sound and be about a cliche chase seen. #writingmemes.
#12
Submitting this old untitled piece i did awhile ago.

(thoughts)


He slams the door. Hard. Hard enough to rattle windows. Hard enough to splinter wood. He doesn't stop.

(why couldn't she just)

SLAM

(f*cking)

SLAM

(shut)

SLAM

(the)

SLAM

(f*ck)

SLAM

(UP!?!)

SLAM


Each SLAM crushed her skull just a little more but more so with each slam. He can feel the bones grinding and crunching as the door crushes her once beautiful face between itself and the jamb.

He looks down and sees blood pooling around his bare feet. He thinks of that song from the 70's:

(there's blood in the street, its up to my ankles)

And looks back up. There is no door, no blood. He is alone in a dark room with nothing but four walls. Padded walls. He is tied down staring at the ceiling. With a deep breath, He closes his eyes and he can hear her voice.

"I'm f*cking leaving! Where are my car keys you worthless piece of sh*t?!"

Suddenly, he is 5 years old again and is looking up at his mother from his bed, surrounded by an all too familiar warm wetness. His mother is screaming at him

"You pissed your bed again?! You worthless piece of shit!" his mother yells while beating him with a wire hanger. "Now sleep in it!". Crying, he sleeps in it.

He opens his eyes and he is in his apartment again, with his wife.
He pushes his wife, who is now his mother, to the ground. She falls halfway into the hallway of their apartment complex, her head resting between the door and the jamb.

(you sleep in it, you evil bitch)

he slams the door.
all his neighbors watch.

In a small, dark room in the east wing of a Pennsylvania mental institution a middle-aged man wets his bed and, crying, he sleeps in it.
If you do something right, no one will know you've done anything at all

Proud to be called Best Friends with Pastafarian96
#14
does family mean it can be about incest
There's no such thing; there never was. Where I am going you cannot follow me now.
#15
Quote by theogonia777
does family mean it can be about incest

"family" theme means it can have anything to do with a family, in relation to a family, or have family overtones. lets not turn this into the 50 shades of grey generator.
If you do something right, no one will know you've done anything at all

Proud to be called Best Friends with Pastafarian96
#16
Quote by Harvey Swick
"family" theme means it can have anything to do with a family, in relation to a family, or have family overtones. lets not turn this into the 50 shades of grey generator.


it's not my family though
There's no such thing; there never was. Where I am going you cannot follow me now.
#17
Quote by theogonia777
it's not my family though

Look, theo, all im saying is, keep it classy. thats all. all other Pit rules still apply here so just follow those along with our contest rules and i think you will be alright. remember, all the other contestants are going to be the ones who judge.
If you do something right, no one will know you've done anything at all

Proud to be called Best Friends with Pastafarian96
#18
20 days until the deadline!
If you do something right, no one will know you've done anything at all

Proud to be called Best Friends with Pastafarian96
#19
Oh wow, thanks for the bump. This completely slipped my mind. Will probably start writing when I find some time this week.
#20
less than 2 weeks until the deadline if anyone is still up for this
If you do something right, no one will know you've done anything at all

Proud to be called Best Friends with Pastafarian96
#21
I don't know if this is still going on but I will enter anyway.

Tick tick tick tick
All of my senses are heightened in my insomniactic state of mind. I can hear the clocks hands trudging along, the gears turning, and the faint click few of us significant beings are so privileged to hear. Tick tick tick tick.
I don’t know how long I have been lying here. A hour? Two? Surely more than that. Even though the damned clock is in my room it’s too dark to be any assistance to me. Even if I knew what time it currently is I don’t remember when I began to lye here. Tick tick tick tick.
I role over to the side of my bed and my hand fumbles on the small makeshift nightstand for my pack of cigarettes. Hopefully these will make my eyelids heavier so I can be seduced into a dreamlike state I so desperately desire to occupy. I find the light weight box and open it to discover I only have one left. My savior. I close the lid again and begin my search for a lighter on the nightstand. No such luck. Even thought my mind is preoccupied I can still hear the ticking, which confirms my decision to roll out of my greased bed from years of use and abuse (heh. Abuse) to presume my search for a fire starter. Tick tick tick tick.
I stumble down the hallway feeling the small effort of walking was beginning to tear the stiches on my side.
Tick tick tick tick. I could still hear that clock even though I had left my room. Am I sure it’s the clock? Is the noise only a figment of my imagination? Had I taken anything? No, I think I would have remembered that, or maybe I wouldn’t? Tick tick tick tick
I fumble my way into the ******* and flip on the light switch. Yes! Thank god I remembered to pay the light bill… but the gas bill? I walked to the stove and turned the dial for the gas. The clicking noise of the igniter turned on and a flame blossomed. It is a rose in spring that was properly nourished by rain, sunlight, and constant pruning. It provides pollen to all the bees and I stuck my dirty cancer causing cigarette right into the center of this precious bud of life and snuffed it out. I wilted it with just the turn of a dial. Click click click click.
I wondered if that’s how all of our beginnings and endings resided, if our fate was determined by the flick of a switch or a turn of the knob, but soon philosophical thoughts waded away from me as I raised the murderer to my lips and inhaled. Click click click click.
The smell of gas lingered in the vulnerable room. I drifted off to the opposite wall and slowly slid down. More of my stiches popped. I exhaled and watched the thick plume of fog like smoke cascade from my mouth. I saw images of romance, anger, and sorrow reflected back at me through its almost opaque like features. Click click click click.
I flirted with death again by raising his brother to my always empathetic lips and I breathed him in. this time when I exhaled I saw storm clouds in the smoke. Thunder rumbled and threatened to pour down. It was peaceful and if comforted me of the thoughts that kept reoccurring of what I had done. Click click click click.
I glanced at the opposite wall. I was the stains on it and I accepted my actions. So would those boys parents when they figured out I was teaching them love. Too bad he didn’t survive. Too bad none of them had survived. Click click click click.
My murderer was almost burned to the filter. I raised it to my lips one last time and inhaled deeply. When I exhaled for the last time I searched the different hues of gray for memories, emotions, or thoughts but only one thing showed up. A boy. Click click click click.
I looked around the room. He wasn’t mine. I don’t recall being with a woman in a long time.
“whats your name?”
Click click click
“how old are you?”
Click click click
The child cocked his head like a dog who had heard his name then stood up. He tossed me a lighter and said “make a choice.”
And then with the last of my cigarette he burned away. He became ash on the floor and the smell of gasoline in the air. Click click click click.
I looked down at my scared hands and there was the lighter. I laughed to myself and breathed in the gasoline. I must be imagining this. Click click click click.
I pressed my thumb down on the lighter and with a spark a flame exploded. It roared and gnashed its incisors in my face singing my hair. He crawled across my skin blistering and scalding all in his path. He climbed down my spine sending chills even though it was not in the slightest cold.
He climbed from my body to the walls, melted the furniture, and shattered the glass. He twisted his flesh into the walls and burned the house from the core. The fiery serpent crawled to the clock. He melted the plastic and busted the glass. The fire tore apart the gears with his bare hands.
And finally, the ticking had stopped.
#22
Quote by Magnumopus7001
I don't know if this is still going on but I will enter anyway.

Tick tick tick tick
All of my senses are heightened in my insomniactic state of mind. I can hear the clocks hands trudging along, the gears turning, and the faint click few of us significant beings are so privileged to hear. Tick tick tick tick.
I don’t know how long I have been lying here. A hour? Two? Surely more than that. Even though the damned clock is in my room it’s too dark to be any assistance to me. Even if I knew what time it currently is I don’t remember when I began to lye here. Tick tick tick tick.
I role over to the side of my bed and my hand fumbles on the small makeshift nightstand for my pack of cigarettes. Hopefully these will make my eyelids heavier so I can be seduced into a dreamlike state I so desperately desire to occupy. I find the light weight box and open it to discover I only have one left. My savior. I close the lid again and begin my search for a lighter on the nightstand. No such luck. Even thought my mind is preoccupied I can still hear the ticking, which confirms my decision to roll out of my greased bed from years of use and abuse (heh. Abuse) to presume my search for a fire starter. Tick tick tick tick.
I stumble down the hallway feeling the small effort of walking was beginning to tear the stiches on my side.
Tick tick tick tick. I could still hear that clock even though I had left my room. Am I sure it’s the clock? Is the noise only a figment of my imagination? Had I taken anything? No, I think I would have remembered that, or maybe I wouldn’t? Tick tick tick tick
I fumble my way into the ******* and flip on the light switch. Yes! Thank god I remembered to pay the light bill… but the gas bill? I walked to the stove and turned the dial for the gas. The clicking noise of the igniter turned on and a flame blossomed. It is a rose in spring that was properly nourished by rain, sunlight, and constant pruning. It provides pollen to all the bees and I stuck my dirty cancer causing cigarette right into the center of this precious bud of life and snuffed it out. I wilted it with just the turn of a dial. Click click click click.
I wondered if that’s how all of our beginnings and endings resided, if our fate was determined by the flick of a switch or a turn of the knob, but soon philosophical thoughts waded away from me as I raised the murderer to my lips and inhaled. Click click click click.
The smell of gas lingered in the vulnerable room. I drifted off to the opposite wall and slowly slid down. More of my stiches popped. I exhaled and watched the thick plume of fog like smoke cascade from my mouth. I saw images of romance, anger, and sorrow reflected back at me through its almost opaque like features. Click click click click.
I flirted with death again by raising his brother to my always empathetic lips and I breathed him in. this time when I exhaled I saw storm clouds in the smoke. Thunder rumbled and threatened to pour down. It was peaceful and if comforted me of the thoughts that kept reoccurring of what I had done. Click click click click.
I glanced at the opposite wall. I was the stains on it and I accepted my actions. So would those boys parents when they figured out I was teaching them love. Too bad he didn’t survive. Too bad none of them had survived. Click click click click.
My murderer was almost burned to the filter. I raised it to my lips one last time and inhaled deeply. When I exhaled for the last time I searched the different hues of gray for memories, emotions, or thoughts but only one thing showed up. A boy. Click click click click.
I looked around the room. He wasn’t mine. I don’t recall being with a woman in a long time.
“whats your name?”
Click click click
“how old are you?”
Click click click
The child cocked his head like a dog who had heard his name then stood up. He tossed me a lighter and said “make a choice.”
And then with the last of my cigarette he burned away. He became ash on the floor and the smell of gasoline in the air. Click click click click.
I looked down at my scared hands and there was the lighter. I laughed to myself and breathed in the gasoline. I must be imagining this. Click click click click.
I pressed my thumb down on the lighter and with a spark a flame exploded. It roared and gnashed its incisors in my face singing my hair. He crawled across my skin blistering and scalding all in his path. He climbed down my spine sending chills even though it was not in the slightest cold.
He climbed from my body to the walls, melted the furniture, and shattered the glass. He twisted his flesh into the walls and burned the house from the core. The fiery serpent crawled to the clock. He melted the plastic and busted the glass. The fire tore apart the gears with his bare hands.
And finally, the ticking had stopped.

if no one else submits within 3 days you'd win for sure
#27
Quote by Magnumopus7001
I don't know if this is still going on but I will enter anyway.



definitely still going on if we get more submissions. i dont even mind pushing the deadline back IF those who need more time are DEFINITELY going to submit something if given the extra time (say, two weeks?)
If you do something right, no one will know you've done anything at all

Proud to be called Best Friends with Pastafarian96
#28
Definitely still want to contribute but I start uni in a week so I have 7 days to think up and write something. wish me luck
#29
seeing how theres only two entries, im not opposed to stretching the deadline another 2 weeks.

new deadline in the 9th of March but thats as far as Im going!
If you do something right, no one will know you've done anything at all

Proud to be called Best Friends with Pastafarian96
#30
Quote by Magnumopus7001
I don't know if this is still going on but I will enter anyway.

Tick tick tick tick
All of my senses are heightened in my insomniactic state of mind. I can hear the clocks hands trudging along, the gears turning, and the faint click few of us significant beings are so privileged to hear. Tick tick tick tick.
I don’t know how long I have been lying here. A hour? Two? Surely more than that. Even though the damned clock is in my room it’s too dark to be any assistance to me. Even if I knew what time it currently is I don’t remember when I began to lye here. Tick tick tick tick.
I role over to the side of my bed and my hand fumbles on the small makeshift nightstand for my pack of cigarettes. Hopefully these will make my eyelids heavier so I can be seduced into a dreamlike state I so desperately desire to occupy. I find the light weight box and open it to discover I only have one left. My savior. I close the lid again and begin my search for a lighter on the nightstand. No such luck. Even thought my mind is preoccupied I can still hear the ticking, which confirms my decision to roll out of my greased bed from years of use and abuse (heh. Abuse) to presume my search for a fire starter. Tick tick tick tick.
I stumble down the hallway feeling the small effort of walking was beginning to tear the stiches on my side.
Tick tick tick tick. I could still hear that clock even though I had left my room. Am I sure it’s the clock? Is the noise only a figment of my imagination? Had I taken anything? No, I think I would have remembered that, or maybe I wouldn’t? Tick tick tick tick
I fumble my way into the ******* and flip on the light switch. Yes! Thank god I remembered to pay the light bill… but the gas bill? I walked to the stove and turned the dial for the gas. The clicking noise of the igniter turned on and a flame blossomed. It is a rose in spring that was properly nourished by rain, sunlight, and constant pruning. It provides pollen to all the bees and I stuck my dirty cancer causing cigarette right into the center of this precious bud of life and snuffed it out. I wilted it with just the turn of a dial. Click click click click.
I wondered if that’s how all of our beginnings and endings resided, if our fate was determined by the flick of a switch or a turn of the knob, but soon philosophical thoughts waded away from me as I raised the murderer to my lips and inhaled. Click click click click.
The smell of gas lingered in the vulnerable room. I drifted off to the opposite wall and slowly slid down. More of my stiches popped. I exhaled and watched the thick plume of fog like smoke cascade from my mouth. I saw images of romance, anger, and sorrow reflected back at me through its almost opaque like features. Click click click click.
I flirted with death again by raising his brother to my always empathetic lips and I breathed him in. this time when I exhaled I saw storm clouds in the smoke. Thunder rumbled and threatened to pour down. It was peaceful and if comforted me of the thoughts that kept reoccurring of what I had done. Click click click click.
I glanced at the opposite wall. I was the stains on it and I accepted my actions. So would those boys parents when they figured out I was teaching them love. Too bad he didn’t survive. Too bad none of them had survived. Click click click click.
My murderer was almost burned to the filter. I raised it to my lips one last time and inhaled deeply. When I exhaled for the last time I searched the different hues of gray for memories, emotions, or thoughts but only one thing showed up. A boy. Click click click click.
I looked around the room. He wasn’t mine. I don’t recall being with a woman in a long time.
“whats your name?”
Click click click
“how old are you?”
Click click click
The child cocked his head like a dog who had heard his name then stood up. He tossed me a lighter and said “make a choice.”
And then with the last of my cigarette he burned away. He became ash on the floor and the smell of gasoline in the air. Click click click click.
I looked down at my scared hands and there was the lighter. I laughed to myself and breathed in the gasoline. I must be imagining this. Click click click click.
I pressed my thumb down on the lighter and with a spark a flame exploded. It roared and gnashed its incisors in my face singing my hair. He crawled across my skin blistering and scalding all in his path. He climbed down my spine sending chills even though it was not in the slightest cold.
He climbed from my body to the walls, melted the furniture, and shattered the glass. He twisted his flesh into the walls and burned the house from the core. The fiery serpent crawled to the clock. He melted the plastic and busted the glass. The fire tore apart the gears with his bare hands.
And finally, the ticking had stopped.


It's a tall tale the tallest tale I've heard in quite a spell
You really told a whopper, and you told it mighty well
Yes in all the years I've travelled on the tall tale telling trail
I never heard a tall tale teller tell a taller tale
#31
I apologise for not having entered anything yet
I've already started something, and I solemnly swear I'll continue working on it tonight!
#33
There was a thread a looong time ago where we were supposed to write an opening for the line "...and that's why I have to kill you."

This was supposed to be my entry, it's kind of a cliche story but I just re-read it and I like some of the lines in it, so:

I used to be a happy man. Had a wife, two kids, house in the suburbs, all that stuff you brush off as cliche and mundane when you're young, but makes so much sense when you get older. Sure, "older" sounds bad, but the ones who claim to be young forever are usually the ones no-one envies.

Job was looking up too, a big merger was on the way, and I was in charge of it. What time I took from my kids, I gave back whenever I could. Sure, stress was there, but nothing a few laughs and drinks with friends couldn't solve.

The merger was in its final stages, and the only thing left to discuss was the company name. No, no, it was already decided that it would be an "X & Y" type of affair, but somehow there was always an air of tension when we proposed that our company be the X and their the Y, and vice versa. Sometimes I'd get mad, not wanting to let everybody in this company feel like we got short-changed on this deal, 'cause you know "name is everything" in business. Other times, I'd feel like an idiot... "Name is everything", what kind of bullshit is that?

My wife's work had also started to nibble minutes and hours out of her day, she was a travel agent in an up-and-coming new agency, which had these new type of travel arrangements, shoot me if I can remember what made them so special, but folks just ate them up.

Noticing that my behavior and mood lately has been hurting my family, I decided I'd swallow my pride and let the other company get the first name in the title of the new, fused company. Along with my will to continue this stupid argument, faded my aversion towards the name "Hopton and Fink".

The holiday season took the edge off of everything for a while, and life was all about hauling family and friends from Christmas party to Christmas party. We had a lot of friends. Sometimes I'd get a bit too happy with the drink, so my wife had to drive home, but she never antagonized me for this. She loved me and I loved her, especially the way that she didn't get hung up on stuff I didn't think was important, like the odd drink.

...

Few months after the merge went through, I began to feel more and more opressed and patronized in the workplace. The board of directors always seemed to be in favor of the interests of the other half of the deal, and my projects, which took hours in stress and headaches, all got scrapped. The boss of the other company, mr. Hopton, seemed to like everybody on the floor but me. Childish thing to think and say, but there was definitely something strange in the air. And also I felt like I'd seen this guy before.

...

Waking up from yet another night of hard booze, I stumbled my way into my car and to my house. It was a long time since my family was happy. We grew apart. Daughters were in high school by now, and while I was happy to buy them cellphones and clothes, I knew that money couldn't replace the connection we had before.

Shuffling in my pocket for keys, I noticed a band of light skin on my wrist. I lost my watch! I had no idea what time it was. Painfully, I looked up at the sky only to see clouds. Shrugging (what do I even care what time it is), I entered the house to a view of scattered clothes. The bra I bought my wife for our 10th anniversary, the pink one with the lacy bits up front which evoked so many fond memories was laying unceremoniously on the floor next to some pants.

I didn't lie to myself. I grabbed the gun from the desk drawer and followed the painful trail of crumpled clothes. It ended, as those kind of things often do, at the foot of my bed, to a scene of that motherfucker Hopton pumping away on my wife. They didn't even notice me. I tapped on his shoulder, then whacked him in his horrible face with the handle of my gun. He looked up to me from the floor, right into the barrel of my gun. In his eyes, the look of a man who had a gun to his face.

"Hopton, you son of a bitch. Ever since that Christmas party over at the Smiths' (I had since remembered where I knew him from) where I pretended to not notice your sleazy flirting with my wife, my life has been spiralling downwards. Oh sure, I pretended it was nothing and that it would all right itself... but it never does. Never does and never did. And all because of you. Hopton, you asshole, you ruined my life.

And that's why I have to kill you."


By the time I typed this up, the thread I wanted to post it in was already closed


...and that, mods, is why I have to kill you.
Quote by SleepTalkinMan
"Ooh! Straight-jackets online! Christmas sorted."
Last edited by OneHappyCamper at Feb 24, 2015,
#34
Quote by Rossenrot
It's a tall tale the tallest tale I've heard in quite a spell
You really told a whopper, and you told it mighty well
Yes in all the years I've travelled on the tall tale telling trail
I never heard a tall tale teller tell a taller tale


thank you
#36
Quote by Harvey Swick
seeing how theres only two entries, im not opposed to stretching the deadline another 2 weeks.

new deadline in the 9th of March but thats as far as Im going!



I would really apreciate this. I have the beginning and the end of my story done and I can def finish by the 9th

I must have written had to write a short story in school at some point, but for the life of me I can't remember doing it. So this feeels like the fiiiirst time.

EDIT. Whoops. For some reason I thought you were only thinking about extending it. I didn't see you already had. I suppose I got a bit overzealous.
Last edited by Duaneclapdrix at Feb 26, 2015,
#37
Quote by Duaneclapdrix
Whoops. For some reason I thought you were only thinking about extending it. I didn't see you already had. I suppose I got a bit overzealous.

yup, new deadline is the 9th
If you do something right, no one will know you've done anything at all

Proud to be called Best Friends with Pastafarian96
#38
wanted to get this done asap so it's kinda rushed with it being 3am where I live, but here it is. Also I realise it's kind of confusing

anyway, hope you enjoy it.
Under the Bridge

The flash of green from the traffic lights overhead lit up the seats and dash around me. It was blindingly bright compared with the moonless night above. I sped off, escaping the spotlight and entering back into the comfortable night. I drove, peaceful and alone, passing darkened lifeless shopfronts. Ahead of me was the hotel, lights shining from within illuminating the drunken punters and midnight gamblers surrounding the pokies. Pissing away coins and more.

“Not much further”


I veered right at another intersection and kept on cruising. With no one else on the road the lights were already green.

‘Bzzzt – Bzzzt – Bzzzt’

With one hand still on the steering wheel, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone.

“get some milk 2”

“k”


Sighing I dropped my phone into the centre console.

Just up ahead was the servo. I slowed down, and turned into the lot, the tyres thudding, front then back, into the kerb. I drove past the pumps and pulled up just alongside and ahead of the sliding glass doors. There was an old man wearing singlet and thongs filling up his car while a young woman paid inside. I walked inside, the glass doors creaking shut in my wake. I grabbed some milk and then went looking around the store for some nappies; I couldn’t see any.

“I told her they wouldn’t have them.”


I walked up to the counter with my milk and waited behind the young woman.

“She was kind of cute”
“Brown long hair, firm butt…”


She turned around. I looked up as she walked passed; she smiled and we dodged out of each other’s way. I watched her go for a moment before turning back and walking up to the counter. I placed my milk on the counter.

“You paying for petrol?” questioned the bored cashier.

“Nope”

“Anything else?” he asked as he bagged the bottle of milk.

“Just a packet of cigs…”

“Ok” he said as he turned to grab a pack.

“also, you guys don’t happen to have any nappies?”

“uhh…”

“Babies’ nappies?” I clarified.

“Uhh, no, no we don’t.” he said shaking his head.

“I told her”


“Ok, that’s it then”

I paid and went to walk out, pausing to wait for the old doors to drag open. I passed the old man on his way in and walked to my car. I clambered in, slamming the door once, then twice after it didn’t catch. Collecting my phone from the console I went to text back,

“They didn’t have any, but I got the milk”


While I was waiting I started the car. Winding down the window, I lit a cigarette and had a smoke. Leaning one arm on the car door I stared out into the night, while the halogen lights from the servo hummed around me. Getting tired of my own silence, I switched on the radio.

‘-don’t – want - none un…’

“Nope”


‘…r up late with Browny 98.8 F…’

“Nope”


‘Sometimes I feel like I don’t have a partner…’


‘Bzzzt – Bzzzt – Bzzzt’

‘Sometimes I feel like my only friend’


“Try chemist down the rd”

‘is the city I live in’


“k”


‘The city of angels’


‘Lonely as I am'


“Love you”

'together we cry’



Last edited by Gatecrasher53 at Feb 28, 2015,
#39
How did I miss this thread until now? If I'd spotted it earlier I might have done something. As it is, I've got too many projects on the go already, and I'd rather not distract myself with another. Good to see that these threads are still going though.
#40
I'm too alpha for this contest let me know when that one comes around thanks
Quote by Trowzaa
I wish I was American.

~ A Rolling Potato Gathers No Moss ~
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