The Thoughts of a Frumpy Professor

............................................ ............................................ A blog devoted to the ramblings of a small town, middle aged college professor as he experiences life and all its strange variances.

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

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FFF #5 Entry

Below is my entry for this week's Flash Fiction story. As I have decided for my efforts, I am limiting myself to a 10 minute time frame to write (and a minute or two to edit afterwords). While not in my original plan, you will notice that this week's effort was able to be a continuation of the previous week's effort as the sentence fit into the story adequately. I hope that you enjoy the writing and I look forward to any comments you may have.

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I Don't Give A Sh*t

“Come with me, if you want to give a sh*t about something in your life.” purred the waitress into my ear as she tugged at my hand as I sat at the bar crying into my shots and beer.

I looked sideways into her face. Her face had the pimply sort of look that you see in young adults who work jobs involving deep fat fryers. While flattered, for the “invitation” I knew this would not lead to a good ending.

“I’m sorry, Miss, but I can’t. I’m old enough to be your father.” I stated solemnly as stuck my pipe back into my mouth, attempting to portray a “Steven Douglas” visage, while dressed in my biker leathers.

The waitress, whose name was Jeanine, laughed out loud, in a slightly shocked, but impetuous manner, and shook her head.

“You got the wrong idea, there.” she said ambigously and she again pulled at my hand.

Reluctantly, I followed her lead and walked with her to the back room of the bar. We walked past the storage room filled with cardboard boxes filled with the empty whiskey, bourborn, and vodka bottles consumed during the last few weeks. We moved past the small office area where a radio was statically streaming out the caterwauling warbles of Tammy Wynette’s “The Ways To Love A Man”. We went into a small, dark room, with cheap, water damaged paneling on the walls. From the light of the hallway I could see the outline of a stained, well-worn mattress on the floor.

She pulled me into the room and pulled me over towards the bed. Although my mind was fairly pleasantly liquored-up by this time, I was not plastered enough to not hear the scream of the warning sirens going off in my head. She sat down on the mattress, and pulled me down as well. I stumbled over something on the floor and fell down roughly beside her. My momentum was enough that I could not help but fall against her, and she and I splayed prone across the mattress, with me on top of her.

Very quickly, but sloppily, I righted myself and apologized profusely to her. She laughed, and sat back up herself. Then, she reached over and switched on the short desk lamp that was also on the floor by the mattress. While doing so, she reached into one cardboard box and seemed to be trying to pull something out.

I heard a whimper. "Sh*t!" I thought, "what the hell do I do now?"

With a fluid motion of her arm, she extracted a wriggling ball of fur from the box, "Here" she said, "is reason enough to give a sh*t about life."

The puppy in her hands wriggled and squirmed until it finally was able to reach her face. Its long pink tongue slathered Jeanine's face with kisses, and she giggled, and grinned, and in my eyes, appeared radiantly beautiful.

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Well, that is it for this week. I hope you enjoy my efforts.

PipeTobacco

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