55 Word Stories

Bachelor Party

"What a bachelor Party!" thought Paul as he slowly opened his eyes, making sure light wouldn't increase the pain in his shrunken brain head.
He briefly wondered what he would tell his fiance, until he realized the hotel room they had last night didn't have bars on the windows, or plastic sheets on the bed.

Double Cross

"Where is it?" screamed Mike, digging violently through the closet.
"I don't know!" Tasha replied, quickly hiding it in her jeans.  Top desk drawer, where she knew it would be.
"I said he wouldn't tell me.  Now we have nothing but a corpse!"
"But I need two." thought Tasha, hiding the knife behind her back.


For anybody who wasn't seen the books, 55 word stories are just that.  Stories that are just 55 words (excluding the title) no more, no less.  Why 55 words?  I have no idea, but they are fun to write if you just have a small story idea, and can be surprisingly difficult to write.  If you'd like to learn more about 55 word stories, check out Google, because really, I'm not sure it's my job to do all your research for you. 

And thank you to Not Worth Mentioning for making me blog of the day.  If you found me from there, welcome, have a look around and follow.  If you haven't been over there, go check him out.  And look, I even provided a link this time.

I Forgot I Wrote This About Treev

The dark night thundered with the sounds of Brown Beverly and the squeal of the windows from the hot wind. Treev relaxed in his seat as he steered with his hand on his lap, barely able to see over Beverly’s large hood onto the faintly illuminated road constantly coming at us. 

Treev claimed to know this road well, and knew that if only he kept it to the floor we would have enough strength to plow through any roadblock or obstacle that was intentionally or not set for us. 

We’d managed to trade enough to get our hands on some black market gasoline, because we could no longer afford to buy any prime, and found ourselves riding with a trunk full of explosive milk cartons and ice cream buckets, just waiting for them to blow us back to where ever if the tiniest little spark decided it was our time. 

Traveling in Nebraska in the dark is always a lonely affair. Since it was too loud to talk, and the stereo system had been ripped out by Larry the Leper’s minions to install in his bionic body, I spent my time anxiously looking for any other headlights as our lonely ship cruised through empty space passing small systems of family farms and galaxies of villages and towns. 

This was Sodomite country, so you knew when you saw another auto at night that you were either dealing with a local law dog in heat over out of state plates, or the incomparably dreaded Roving Band.

We did have a backseat full of sin sticks and lighters, but Locey Laws seldom concerned themselves with the prohibition, and we figured if we had to get some paper to pay The Man we’d just fence a few gallons of the black market in the trunk.

But while The Man could be bought off with paper or maybe a few well fed jump-suited weeks, the Roving Band of Sodomites dealt in a terrible market all its horrible own.

 

With our speed maintained at well over a hundred and ten, it was difficult for me to read all the attractions available at the newly constructed Possum Land, a Possum-themed amusement park dedicated to the obviously heroic church leader. The billboard was bright and well lit, and with its ladder rides and salvation prizes, Possum Land looked like it might be a nice place for us to go and relax after we were done with the assassination.

Treev and I locked eyes as we realized we would soon be in Thayer, but his gaze shifted past my head and out the window behind me into the dark country.

Treev muttered something as he shifted upright in his seat and switched attention from the road to the mirrors. 

I turned in my seat, and saw in the thicket the lights turn on of an old light brown mini-van. With a violent burst the now distant van jumped on to the highway, turning towards us and flashing its headlights.

“Sodomites?” I lamely shouted and Treev replied only with a nod of his head, frantically digging in the seat between us. 

“Where’s my stunner?” Treev yelled while keeping his eyes on the bright rear view mirror. 

I frantically dug in Beverly’s glove box, pulling out a mess of papers and various other unidentifiable things, letting them fall to my feet in the soiled carpet.

I handed Treev his stunner, and the car was quickly bathed in blue light as he gave a few pulls on the trigger to test it.

“Hey, look!” I held up the stuffed gray kitten which usually sat on the dash. “I found Chester!” 

Thinking this could be our last ride together, I placed Chester back on his stand, and turned to see the grim sight behind us. 

The two bright lights of the mini-van had not only gotten closer, but where soon being joined by others as the Sodomites caught the scent of fresh meat

Mankato Paths and the Identity Bandits

     Strolling the tree lined trails is a peaceful, mind clearing activity during the hours of light, but once the sol sets it's a completely different story.

     Bandits prowl the hedges, eater to pounce any fanny pack or wallet bulge they see.  It's not money they are after, no, a few bills of paper will only get you so far.  What they are after is identity.

     They'll snatch your i.d and after a few quick twists of the thumb on ink will have your social security number and mother's maiden name.  Then before you can stumble to the nearest residence, thumb in hand, they'll have jumped back to the bushes with their G6 internet and have started ten new accounts in your name.

     It is a mixed bag of beauty and danger, walking the paths, but that's why so many thrill seekers are drawn to it like bull fighting and whore mongering.  But if you play the game right you can come out on top safe.
   

Quick Post

Wish I could find something to post here, but I've left all my notebooks at home, and Treev and I can't go there since the Huffing Syndicate is keeping its bloodshot eyes on it in order to find us. 
(They don't really want me, but they know that I know where he is)
So now we are staying at the 24 hour coffee shop, napping in 10 minute shifts and occasionally going out to the car to change shirts so they think we are different patrons. 
I'm not entirely sure it's working, but Treev is convinced that it's brilliant.  
This shouldn't last long though.  It's just a matter of time before our watchers run out of spray paint or markers, and have to crawl off into the darkness hungry for another kick.

Thought For The Day

The worst thing you can do to a personal rival is invite them to your funeral.
Let them sit there at the wake as people tell stories of your awesomeness. 
Let them sit there and stew, dare them to be the voice speaking ill of the dead.

3,..2,...1,...

Followers!
(See what I did there?)

You know me, just trying to be original.  I figured It'd be better to pick a different number than the usual round ones to celebrate a member milestone.
It's nice that I achieved it so soon after writing about not being able to get it. 
So guys, there is only one lesson to be learned here:

Begging. Works.
(right ladies?)

But in other news, Idiot Neighbor and Fat Dyke Hair are gone.  They've moved on to whatever questionable future is available to them. 
That's the good news.
They bad news is that they seem to have been replaced by a daycare for the Children of Teenage Single Mothers.
That love to blast the hip hop.

So we'll see how this goes.  I'm rubbing my hands just imagining the inspiration they will provide.

So that's all for now.

And thanks again.

Moment of Clarity

Mark sits on the couch, playing the game she gave him.
At first, he catches a whiff, a tickle, the shadow of a memory.
Slowly it grows stronger, shadows become images
from months ago.
It's real, it's in the room with him, as if she's sitting there next to him,
like when she'd be driving them home in her car. 
Her perfume.
Tests the shirt, the undershirt, the pants.
Nope.
Finally he finds the source, in his socks.
That she washed for him three months ago.
Suddenly the end of their relationship
made perfect sense.