S l I n k s t e r
I s s u e 1 . 1
|
CONTENT >> cREaTIvE |
|
Home beats creative politik erotik threads life global village film artscene out |
|
ABout SLInksTer < philosophy> <contact> <submit> <contributors> |
|
NEW FICTION <read, inform, know> |
|
[
SELF-SYMPATHY BLEEDS INTO THE WRITING
OF THE IGNORANT ] Tony
DuShane The
sympathy seeking boy clouded decent writing with getting over the girl who
likes girl...no boy in the equation...no boy between her legs...unless you
count her girlfriend's synthetic toy that wrapped around her waist and hung
there like a boy, boy oh boy... The
boy wrote and wrote until there was nothing left to write. He looked out the window and saw the birds
chirping and frolicking. The boy bird
was diggin the girl bird, or so he thought.
The girl bird didn't put up a fight, so boy wrote more about his pain
and pitied himself with thinking he deserved the girl who likes girl, boy oh
boy... The
boy read what he wrote about the boy who likes girl who likes girl. He thought, boy oh boy, this is terrible,
and he crumpled the paper and put it in his mouth and tried to eat it. He chewed and chewed on the boy who likes
girl who likes girl. After
he swallowed the paper he wondered if the ink would corrode in his stomach
during the night. Maybe I'll die from
it he thought. The thought comforted
him, boy oh boy... Then
that thought went away and the boy figured it was time to quit this nonsense
and write about something else he cared about, so he sat down to write. Nothing
would come out of his brain onto the paper...an hour passed until he realized
he wasn't very interesting, unless you consider a boy whose heart was broken
by a girl who likes girl interesting. I
need to get a life, he thought. Without
thinking, he poured himself another scotch and found the bottle to be
empty. Boy oh boy, I'm fucked up, he
thought, as he tried to count to ten. Then,
the ink from the paper dissolved into his stomach and went to his liver for
cleaning, but his liver was overworked from scotch and had to send the
contaminating ink back into his bloodstream.
The boy died. Lucky
for us, we won't have to read anymore of this sympathy seeking boy's plight
with the girl who likes girl. She
really did like boys, just not that boy, boy oh boy... |
|
*
archives > view past interviews |
|
* email>
the author |
|
* disclaimer > The editors and creators @ slinkster would like to remind you
that views expressed in the slinkster space do not necessarily reflect those
portrayed by the slinkster ethos- although- then again……they just might. If you have a problem with what you have
read, we suggest e-mailing the author.
Failing that, drop us a line and we can try and explain ourselves
better |
|
ABout SLInksTer < philosophy> <contact> <submit> <contributors> |