Sometimes I write little things to remind myself that writing is fun and doesn't always have to end in someone buying a dog walker.
You can read those little things at: https://sidewords1.wordpress.com/
The only thing I love more than a challenge is bite sized content. You don't need a lot of words to make someone laugh, you just need a good idea. I don't actually know if that's true or not, so these 100 word stories are my attempt to prove it.
Maybe we can combine the kitchen and bathroom?” Megan suggested, circling the large cardboard box they had just purchased. “That’s ridiculous,” her husband said. “We’ve already combined the bathroom and bedroom.” Megan sighed and leaned against the shoebox they intended to use as a bed.“Well, what else can we do? We can get rid of the cat.” The cat meowed sadly. Her husband fidgeted with the ice tray they planned to use as a freezer. “I think maybe we went into this with unrealistic expectations. Three million dollars just doesn’t get you what it used to in San Francisco”.
June remembered what it had felt like to walk. To feel the sun on her face, hear the wind against the leaves, see the world illuminated by a light that wasn’t artificial. Now, all she could see for miles was machines. Each was probably carrying a person also trying to remember what life had been like 100 years ago- before it happened. Before they had all foolishly called Ubers at 6pm and gotten routed across the 405. June gently touched her finger to the window. One day, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, she would experience the outside world again.
I writhed in agony as a breeze from the penthouse’s open window hit my outstretched arm. Two feet away the glare from my startup branded lamp seared my corneas with 60 un-dimmable watts. I reached again for the switch, but the Panerai watch on my wrist weighed my hand down. “Alexa,” I called again feebly. “Turn off the light.” but the cry fell on deaf robot ears. Alexa remained silent. As the artificial light sank into the very depths of my being, I surrendered to the hard truth that it would just remain on for the remainder of my existence.
The Ghost In My Sock Drawer
I think my sock drawer is haunted by a small ghost with self-esteem issues. I think this because when I open my sock drawer a voice says, “Boo”, but super shyly. I’ve learned you should never laugh at this because ghosts with confidence problems think you’re laughing at them, not with them. Then they hide in your socks because they’re embarrassed and get stuck inside your shoes. I’ve also learned that ghost hunters don’t excavate small ghosts from shoes because they feel it’s beneath them. The moral of this story is there’s nothing more uncomfortable than running on haunted shoes.
The Baby Succulent
Kara watched her friend’s children play outside and wondered why they weren’t dead yet. It’s not like she wanted them dead, but her succulent had died last week and she didn’t understand how it was easier to keep three human children alive than a 15 dollar Haworthia Fasciata. She starred as the youngest ate a handful of dirt. Maybe it was because children couldn’t be overwatered, or weren’t mistaken by dogs as food, or didn’t need exposure to direct sunlight. Hmm, that last one didn’t sound right. Kara stroked her pregnant stomach. She probably should have just gotten another plant.
When I hit the wall it pissed me off because this was supposed to be fun.
“What if it was a font? Or a Chrome extension?”
I dug a hole under the wall with two beers and Chinese Food but I got so fat I got stuck.
“What if it was a board game?”
I wriggled a hand free.
“What if the game was experiential!?”
I wriggled it free enough to Google frantically.
“Droga already did it.”
The wall caved in, burying the whole desk. My art director freed just enough of her finger to flip me off
The door slammed and four of Alfred’s eyes looked up from the moth he was eating.
Bother. It had been a quiet morning.
“Lillianne’s a bitch!” Janet wailed into her phone. Alfred watched her shoes clack across the floor, wishing he was underneath them. As complaints off Lillianne echoed off the walls Alfred wondered why he climbed through that window into this hell. Outside he would be dead. So peaceful. Here, he would give his first 100 born children to not be here.
“Such. A. Bitch!”
Alfred turned back to his moth. At least spiders only lived a few years.
Sarah watched the puppy stumble over his paws and thought prison wouldn’t be so bad if it was dog friendly. Its eyes followed her as she paced. She imagined he was questioning her sanity which, given the situation, was fair. But sanity begone, they’d come too far. The only thing to do now was leave the country; start over in a new place with new names. Sarah started throwing things into a suitcase. It was just the two of them now. Woman and dog, bound in a way only one stealing the other from outside an organic grocery could be